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BEHIND   THE   MOTION 
PICTURE  SCREEN 


T  TOW  the  Scenario  Writer,  Director, 
J-  J-  Cameraman,  Scene  Painter  and 
Carpenter,  Laboratory  Man,  Art 
Director,  Property  Man,  Electrician, 
Projector  Operator  and  Otfiers  Contribute 
Their  Sfiare  of  Work  Toward  the  Real- 
ization of  the  Wonderful  Photoplays  of 
Today;  and  How  tfie  Motion  Picture  is 
Rapidly  Extending  Into  Many  Fields 
Aside  from  tliat  of  Entertainment 


BY 

AUSTIN   C.  LESC  ARBOUR  A 

Second  Edition 
Over  300  Illustrations 


SCIENTIFIC  AMERICAN   PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

MUNN  &  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK 

1921 


Copyright  1919  by 
SCIENTIFIC  AMERICAN  PUBLISHING  CO. 


A II  Rights  lieserved 


"•  •     • 


'RigOts'df  Translation   Reserved,  including  TVanslations 
•       •      •      •*•  in  Scandinavian  Languages 


.^^■^-^-^^^   ^^>v£^^ 


Printed   in  the   United   States  of   America 

Press  of  Andrew  H.  Kellogg  Co. 

New  York  City 


A 


^ 


INTRODUCTION 

IN  preparing  this  work  the  author  has  endeavored 
to  steer  a  literary  course  midway  between  the 
deeply  technical  books  intended  for  those  actively 
engaged  in  the  motion-picture  industry,  and  the 
popular  works  written  for  those  seeking  entertain- 
ment rather  than  information.  Both  those  classes  of 
works  have  their  missions  and  perform  them  most 
admirably,  to  be  sure.  But  for  the  film  devotee  of  a 
more  serious  turn  of  mind  who  would  ask  pertinent 
questions  and  expect  understandable  answers  con- 
cerning w^hat  takes  place  behind  the  motion-picture 
screen,  and  who  would  be  unable  or  unwilling  to  turn 
to  the  technical  volumes  with  their  formidable  ver- 
biage, this  book  has  been  written  with  the  fondest 
hopes  that  it  will  fulfill  a  long-felt  want. 

Every  important  phase  of  motion  pictures  has  been 
touched  upon,  more  or  less,  depending  upon  its  rela- 
tive value  to  the  entire  art.  Technicalities  have  con- 
sistently been  avoided.  It  has  been  the  aim  to  lay  a 
general  foundation  for  cinematographic  knowledge, 
so  that  the  reader,  after  mastering  these  pages,  can 
turn  to  the  more  exhaustive  works  which  have  here- 
tofore been  barred  to  him  as  a  layman. 


.^7i4:n 


Introduction 


In  explaining  special  forms  of  motion  pictures,  the 
author  has  made  use  of  certain  systems.  It  is  not  to 
be  assumed  that  these  are  reconmiended  or  selected 
solely  on  their  merits  from  among  all  other  similar 
systems.  Indeed,  they  have  been  selected  either  be- 
cause their  general  characteristics  serve  to  make 
them  typical  of  motion  pictures  of  that  particular 
category,  or  because  their  operation  lends  itself  best 
to  simple  explanation. 

The  author  is  deej^ly  indebted  to  Mr.  Maurice 
Schoenbaum  of  New  York  City,  an  authority  on  do- 
mestic and  foreign  cinematography,  who  has  been 
kind  enough  to  go  over  the  manuscript  to  insure  ac- 
curacy of  the  more  technical  portions  of  this  book. 
Also  is  the  author  deeply  indebted  to  the  various 
film  producing  companies,  particularly  those  men- 
tioned on  another  page,  through  whose  generosity 
and  cooiDcration  this  book  is  so  profusely  and  fit- 
tingly illustrated. 


New  York,  March  1st,  1919, 


CONTENTS 

Pages 
Chapter  I. 

Working  Plans  of  the  Motion  Picture 2-16 

Chapter  II. 
The  Artist  Who  Paints  the  Film  Subjects 18-32 

Chapter  III. 
The  Real  Role  of  t he  Picture  Actor 34-62 

Chapter  IV. 
The    Motion-Picture    Camera 64-86 

Chapter  V. 
The  Cameraman  and  His  Art 88-106 

Chapter  VI. 
In  the  Land  of  Make  Believe 108-130 

Chapter  VII. 
The  Birth-PIace  of  the  Motion  Picture 132-160 

Chapter  VIII. 
The  Generals  of  Shadowland 162-182 

Chapter  IX. 
Tricks  of  the  Screen 184-202 

Chapter  X. 
From  the  Camera  to  the  Screen 204-222 

Chapter  XI. 
Reporters  of  the  Screen 224-240 

Chapter  XII. 
Putting  It  on  the  Screen 242-258 

Chapter  XIII. 
Pictures  in  Natural  Colors 260-276 


CONTENT  S— Continued 

Pages 
Chapter  XIV. 

Filming  the  World   Invisible 278-288 

Chapter  XV. 
Pictures  that  Talk  and  Sing 290-300 

Chapter  XVI. 
Cartoons  that  Move  and  Sculpture  that  Lives 302-322 

Chapter  XVII. 
Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 324-358 

Chapter  XVIII. 
Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Business 360-380 

Chapter  XIX. 
The  Present  Status  of  the  Motion-Picture  Art 382-394 


Chapter  XX. 
The  Future  of  the  Motion  Picture 396-420 


*' CREDIT  TO   WHOM   CREDIT   IS   DUE" 


Credit  is  due  the  following  firms  and  individuals  for  their  whole-hearted 
co-operation  in  illustrating  this  work: 


Famous  Players-Lasky  Corporation 
Vitagraph  Company  of  America 
W.  W.  Hodkinson  Corporation 
Mutual  Film  Corporation 
Arrow  Film  Corporation 
Fox  Film  Corporation 
Triangle  Film  Corporation 
Educational  Films  Corporation 
Universal  Film  Manufacturing  Co. 
Eugene  Lauste 
Wharton  Brothers 


Select  Pictures 

Goldwyn   Distributing   Corporation 

Pathe  Exchange 

Metro  Pictures  Corporation 

Selznick  Pictures  Corporation 

World  Film.  Corporation 

Gaumont 

Essanay 

Prizma  Company 

American  Film  Company 

International  Film  Service 


and  many  others  in  the  divers  fields  of  cinematography. 


CHAPTER  I. 


WORKING   PLANS  OF   THE 
MOTION   PICTURE 


rjlHE  STORY  is  the  soul  of  the  photoplay.  It  is  the 
#  very  foundation  upon  which  is  erected  the  elaborate 
series  of  scenes  which  makes  up  the  finished  film. 
A  photoplay  is  judged  good  or  poor  by  the  story  it  tells; 
for,  after  all,  it  is  the  story  which  interests  the  audience. 
The  direction,  acting  and  photography  are  important, 
to  be  sure;  but  they  are  more  or  less  a  matter  of  routine, 
depending  for  their  success  upon  the  foundation  which  is 
given  them  to  build  upon.  And  to  cater  to  the  whims  of  a 
fickle  and  blase  public,  the  screen  scribes  will  ever  be 
industriously  prospecting  in  many  fields  for  those  golden 
nuggets  of  the  photoplay — plots. 


Working  Plans  of  the  Motion  Picture 


EVERYTHING  must  start  with  an  idea.  After  the  idea 
comes  the  plan,  more  or  less  complete  but  gradually 
perfected  as  the  work  progresses.  So  with  motion  pic- 
tures; there  must  first  be  an  idea  or  plot  for  a  film  story,  fol- 
lowed by  a  more  or  less  complete  set  of  plans  for  the  actual 
production. 

The  plans  for  motion  pictures  are  known  as  scenarios  and  are 
written  by  scenario  writers.  A  scenario  is  nothing  more  than 
a  story  in  skeleton  form.  First  it  tells  in  its  synopsis  what  the 
story  is  about,  gives  the  cast  of  the  photoplay  in  question  and, 
lastly,  outlines  the  action  of  each  scene  in  the  proper  order. 
Titles  and  inserts  such  as  letters  and  telegrams  are  included  in 
the  scenario;  for  it  is  this  set  of  plans  which  guides  the  director 
in  his  work  of  producing  the  photoplay. 

THE    AUTHOR   OF    THE    PHOTOPLAY    SCRIPT 

The  writing  of  scenarios  is  at  once  simple  and  difficult.  To 
some  it  seems  quite  natural  to  tell  stories  in  outline  or  action 
form;  and  without  having  had  any  previous  experience  in  liter- 
ary work,  they  succeed  in  writing  successful  scenarios  from  their 
very  start  in  this  branch  of  endeavor.  To  others  who  have  had 
years  of  training  in  journalism  and  in  fiction  writing,  .a  scenario 
always  remains  an  unmastered  yet  tempting  undertaking. 

It  is  no  doubt  the  seemingly  simple  form  of  the  scenario  that 
tempts  so  many  persons  to  try  their  hand  at  this  kind  of  writing. 
Contrasted  with  the  average  short  story,  the  scenario  appears  to 
be  mere  child's  play ;  for  there  is  no  dialogue,  no  lengthy  descrip- 
tions and  no  great  command  of  elegant  English  required  in  pre- 
paring the  plan  for  a  photoplay. 

But  the  fact  that  is  overlooked  at  first  is  that  the  scenario, 
simple  as  it  may  seem,  must  tell  a  story  in  action  only.  The 
novelist  can  do  much  with  lengthy  descriptions.  He  can  have 
his  reader  read  the  innermost  thoughts  of  any  of  his  characters. 
His  dialogue  can  carry  the  story  along  in  an  attractive  and  ef- 
fective manner  when  the  action  might  be  weak  and  unconvincing. 
In  sharp  contradistinction  the  motion  picture,  and  therefore  the 
scenario,  must  tell  a  story  entirely  by  action.  True,  there  are 
titles;  but  the  practice  is,  and  should  be,  to  have  as  few  titles 
as  possible,  for  the  audience  wants  to  see  pictures  and  not  titles. 


Working  Plans  of  the  Motion  Picture 


So  the  scenario  is  a  skeleton  story  told  in  action  only.  Some 
writers  have  the  peculiar  knack  of  telling  stories  in  this  manner, 
while  others  have  not  the  knack  and  try  as  they  may  they  will 
never  acquire  it.  It  is  the  same  state  of  affairs  as  may  be  found 
in  the  world  of  artists,  where  one  man  may  be  a  good  cartoonist, 
telling  his  story  in  rough,  outline  form,  and  the  other  a  skilled 
artist  who  tells  his  story  in  the  form  of  an  elaborate  oil  painting. 
To  the  first  the  work  of  the  second  is  wonderful;  he  can  never 
hope  to  do  that  kind  of  art  work.  And  to  the  second  the  car- 
toons of  the  first,  crude  yet  so  effective  in  telling  a  story,  seem 
the  products  of  an  ingenious  mind;  the  skilled  artist  admits  that 
he  lacks  the  ability  to  do  such  clever  work. 

The  average  scenario  writer  starts  out  with  a  plot  around 
which  he  works  up  a  series  of  incidents,  just  the  same  as  the  au- 
thor of  a  novel.  But  instead  of  describing  each  of  his  characters 
and  describing  the  action  of  the  story,  with  here  and  there  a  bit 
of  dialogue  to  connect  the  various  parts  together,  the  scenario 
writer  looks  upon  his  story  as  a  series  of  pictures.  The  idea  must 
be  reduced  to  action,  and  the  action  must  be  divided  into  scenes, 
so  arranged  that  they  will  tell  the  story  with  here  and  there  a 
title  or  insert.  So  proficient  are  some  photoplay  authors  that 
they  can  visualize  an  idea  in  motion-picture  form,  accepting 
certain  bits  of  action  and  rejecting  others  while  turning  the  plans 
over  in  their  mind  before  consigning  them  to  paper.  Indeed,  in 
many  instances  the  scenario  writers  can  actually  determine  in  this 
manner  how  much  action  they  can  get  into  each  scene  so  that  the 
entire  production  will  come  within  a  prescribed  length. 

ESSENTIALS    OF   A    SCENARIO 

Like  the  blueprint  of  an  architect,  the  scenario  must  tell  the 
director  how  to  go  about  his  work.  There  is  this  difference,  how- 
ever, that  in  the  case  of  the  latter  he  does  not  have  to  follow 
the  scenario  to  the  letter:  here  and  there,  where  the  circumstances 
and  his  experience  and  judgment  dictate,  he  can  alter  the  action 
in  order  to  produce  a  better  picture.  Very  rarely  is  a  scenario 
strictly  followed  out;  for  the  director,  having  the  actual  work 
of  production  in  hand,  can  usually  improve  upon  many  situa- 
tions outlined  in  the  plans. 

Reduced  to  essentials,  then,  a  scenario  or  script  is  generally 


LEADING    LADY    AND    HER    DIRECTOR    DISCUSSING     A     BIT     OF     ACTION 
CALLED     FOR    BY    THE    SCENARIO 


Working  Plans  of  the  Motion  Picture 


composed  of  a  cast  of  characters  with  a  brief  description  of  each ; 
a  brief  but  clear  synopsis  of  the  story;  and  a  list  of  scenes  which, 
when  filmed,  are  to  tell  the  story  in  photoplay  form.  Thus,  in 
the  case  of  a  comedy  photoplay,  the  arrangement  of  the  scenario 
would  be  about  as  follows: 


Austin  C.  Lescarboura,  Submitted  at  j'-our 

10  Sherman  Avenue,  Usual  Rates. 

Inwood,  New  York  City. 


THE    SUCCESSFUL    FAILURE 

Percival  Farnsworth,  a  pampered  child  of  the  wealthiest  fam- 
ily in  Hamville,  at  the  age  of  25  j^ears,  is  still  groping  around  for 
something  to  do.  His  father  has  placed  him  in  the  local  bank, 
the  department  store,  the  electric  light  company  and  in  other 
local  organizations;  but  the  son  soon  tires  of  all  these  things. 
He  is  madly  in  love  with  Anita,  daughter  of  Hamville's  pros- 
perous brewer,  Schulteis.  A  motion-picture  company  comes  to 
town.  Percival  is  interested  in  their  work,  and  then  and  there 
decides  to  become  a  motion-picture  producer. 

He  seeks  c-apital  with  which  to  buy  the  necessary  equipment. 
His  father,  discouraged  long  ago,  turns  him  down.  He  seeks  the 
girl's  father,  but  gets  no  sympathy.  Finally,  he  approaches  Abe 
Hinsley,  the  miser  of  the  town,  by  interesting  Hinsley's  daugh- 
ter, Mary,  a  would-be  scenario  writer,  in  the  project.  He  offers 
to  produce  one  of  her  scripts,  and  she  in  return  gets  the  required 
money  from  her  father.  Percy  goes  to  the  city,  purchases  his 
equipment,  and  starts  his  studio  in  Hamville.  He  employs  local 
talent  throughout,  for  it  is  the  proud  boast  of  this  Hamville 
Film  Corporation  that  the  film  is  "Made  in  Hamville." 

But  amateur  motion-picture  producers  have  much  to  learn. 
All  kinds  of  ridiculous  mistakes  are  made,  both  photographically 
and  in  the  staging.  Throughout,  the  staging  of  the  pictures  is 
ludicrous.  Finally,  the  five-reel  feature — a  drama  entitled  "In 
the  Days  of  Old  When  Knights  Were  Bold,"  is  completed. 

Percival  starts  out  proudly  for  the  city.  He  goes  to  the  leading 
film  company  and  offers  his  feature.    He  is  told  by  the  office  boy 


AIM 

H     j^Mt     11.%'      .m.  1 

'      '      1 

^i^  Jjf    »     .   ^Ml 

WHEN   THE  SCENARIO   CALLS   FOR   A  THRILLING   RAILROAD  STORY,   THE 
FILM  COMPANY  HIRES  A  RAILROAD 


8  Working  Plans  of  the  Motion  Picture 

to  leave  his  film  and  to  report  in  about  two  hours,  so  as  to  give 
the  directors  a  chance  to  look  it  over.  The  Giant  Film  Company 
directors  go  into  the  projection  room  to  view  the  production. 
They  roar.  The  film  is  certainly  hopeless.  But  Wainright,  one 
of  their  younger  directors,  suddenly  tells  the  men  that  the  pro- 
duction should  be  bought  because  of  its  possibilities.  The  others 
are  thunderstruck  at  what  they  consider  a  foolish  suggestion. 
Wainright  explains  his  scheme  for  converting  the  ridiculous  film 
into  a  roaring  comedy.  When  Percival  comes  back  that  after- 
noon, Wainright  in  all  seriousness  informs  him  that  the  film  is 
accepted.  Just  as  he  is  handing  the  check  to  Percival,  he  asks 
whether  Percival  would  mind  if  the  Giant  Film  Company  went 
out  to  Hamville  to  get  the  photographs  of  the  youthful  director 
and  his  company  in  action.  Percival  tells  them  to  go  ahead.  In 
this  manner  an  appropriate  opening  and  ending  is  obtained  for  the 
drama  turned  comedy. 

Three  months  hence  a  Broadway  audience  is  splitting  its  sides 
laughing  over  the  five-reel  comedy,  "Reeling  the  Drama  in  Ham- 
ville." 

CHARACTERS 

Percival  Farnsworth,  the  youthful  son  of  wealthy  folks;  a 
jack  of  all  trades  and  master  of  none. 

Robert  G.  Farnsworth,  father  of  the  hero. 

Elizabeth  Farnsworth,  mother  of  the  hero. 

Anita  Schulteis,  daughter  of  the  town  brewer  and  very  much 
in  love  with  and  very  much  loved  by  Percival. 

Ruprecht  Schulteis,  brewer,  father  of  Anita,  and  a  firm  be- 
liever in  boys  making  their  own  way  in  this  world. 

Abe  Hinsley,  the  town  miser  who  is  greatly  influenced  by  his 
daughter. 

Mary  Hinsley,  daughter  of  Abe  and  a  would-be  scenario 
writer. 

Paul  Wainright,  young  director  of  the  Giant  Film  Company. 

Villagers,  amateur  actors,  and  directors  in  the  offices  of  the  film 
company. 

locale 
For  the  most  part  the  scenes  are  laid  in  the  typical  country 


1 


10  Working  Plans  of  the  Motion  Picture 

town  of  Hamville.    A  few  scenes  are  laid  in  a  large  city,  prefer- 
ably New  York  or  Chicago. 

SCENES 

SCENE  L— Subtitle:  Twelve-thirty  and  Percival  had  no 
thought  of  departing. 

Parlor  in  home  of  the  Schulteis  family.  Percival  is 
holding  hands  with  Anita  who,  from  time  to  time, 
yawns.  Hall  clock  in  the  background  points  to 
12.30. 

SCENE  2. — Head  of  stairs  on  next  floor.  Schulteis  comes  out  of 
bedroom,  clad  in  pajamas  and  bath  robe.  Looks  at 
watch  and  shakes  head  angrily.     Starts  downstairs. 

SCENE  3. — Same  as  No.  1.  Father  comes  downstairs  and  into 
living  room,  while  lovers  are  so  intent  in  each  other 
that  they  do  not  see  him  approach.  They  pay  no 
attention  to  him.  Finally,  he  comes  between  them 
on  the  sofa  and  turns  angrily  toward  Percival. 
Subtitle:  ''Don't  you  know  when  to  go  home.  Fur- 
thermore, I  might  as  well  tell  you  now  that  until  you 
can  find  a  job  and  become  a  man,  you  might  as  well 
stop  calling  on  my  daughter!" 

Percival  is  taken  unawares.  Does  not  answer  but 
starts  fidgeting  about.  Gets  up  and  walks  out  to 
hall  and  gets  his  hat  and  coat.  Bids  Anita  good  night 
but  is  visibly  angry  with  her  father,  who  then  scolds 
her  and  sends  her  upstairs  to  bed. 

SCENE  4. — Living  room  in  Farnsworth  home.  Father  is  wait- 
ing for  his  son.  Clock  on  mantlepiece  (close-up) 
indicates  L30.  Son  walks  in,  hangs  hat  and  coat  on 
rack  in  hall  at  rear  of  stage.  Sees  his  father  and 
walks  in.  Father  drops  his  newspaper  and  stands 
up.    Looks  angrily  at  son. 

Subtitle:    A  fine  hour  for  you  to  come  home,  young 
man. 
Son  begins  to  explain  where  he  was.    Father  shakes 


12  Working  Plans  of  the  Motion  Picture 

head.  Reaches  into  his  inner  pocket  and  pulls  out 
an  envelope,  which  he  hands  to  son,  who  opens  it 
and  pulls  out  a  letter  which  he  unfolds  and  reads. 
Subtitle — Letter  Form:  January  5th,  1918.  Dear 
Mr.  Farnsworth: — This  is  to  inform  you  that  we 
have  been  obliged  to  discharge  your  son,  Percival, 
because  we  found  him  utterly  unsuited  to  our  work. 
He  appears  to  have  no  taste  or  inclination  for  elec- 
trical work,  and  as  much  as  we  should  like  to  give 
him  the  training  you  desire,  we  believe  it  would 
only  be  time  wasted.  Yours  very  truly,  Hamvillc 
Utilities  Company. 


And  so  the  idea  is  carried  out,  scene  by  scene. 

Scenarios  follow  no  absolute  rule,  and  there  arc  many  varia- 
tions as  can  well  be  imagined.  In  fact,  of  late  the  majority  of 
producing  concerns  prefer  to  work  from  a  synopsis  only,  rather 
than  from  a  complete  scenario  which  an  outsider  might  submit. 
For,  having  a  better  understanding  of  the  requirements  and  the 
limitations  of  the  studio,  the  inside  scenario  writers  or  editors 
are  in  a  far  better  position  to  prepare  the  scenario  than  the  aver- 
age free  lance. .  Given  the  idea  or  synopsis,  they  can  set  to  work 
on  a  script  which  will  come  pretty  close  to  meeting  the  demands 
of  the  directors  with  the  minimum  of  changes  in  actual  produc- 
tion. 

Thus  if  there  is  a  certain  quality  or  distinguishing  feature 
about  the  productions  of  any  given  producer,  it  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  the  scenarios  are  all  prepared  inside  by  staff  writers  or 
editors.  Many  of  the  foremost  producers  have  long  since  given 
up  the  plan  of  purchasing  outside  material,  although  the  best 
policy  appears  to  be  that  of  accepting  ideas  for  photoplays  and 
then  preparing  the  scenarios  inside. 

Books  and  novels  offer  a  rich  field  of  ideas  to  the  motion- 
picture  producer.  A  considerable  proportion  of  the  present  pho- 
toplays are  taken  from  well-known  works  and  magazines,  and 
it  is  due  to  the  skill  of  a  staff  scenario  writer  that  these  novels 
and  stories  make  such  excellent  films;  for  skilled  scenario 
writers  have  the  knack  of  extracting  those  features  of  any  given 


IN  A  RECENT  SCRIPT  THE   AUTHOR  CALLED   FOR  THE  SINKING   OF   THE 
LUSITANIA    WITH    ALL    ITS    HORRORS    AND 


14  Working  Plans  of  the  Motion  Picture 

story  which  will  make  the  strongest  photoplay,  and  these  they 
weave  into  an  interesting  screen  pattern.  It  is  largely  due  to  this 
ability  that  the  independent  or  free-lance  scenario  writer  no 
longer  has  the  opportunity  he  had  formerly. 

The  intro'duction  of  the  multi-reel  feature  too,  has  had  a 
marked  affect  on  the  scenario  market.  Formerly,  when  pro- 
ducers were  making  single-reel  subjects,  many  more  scenarios 
were  required;  and  because  of  the  small  expenses  involved  in 
producing  photoplays,  they  were  not  so  particular  as  to  the 
merits  of  the  story  submitted.  But  today,  with  tens  of  thousands 
of  dollars  being  expended  for  a  single  five-reel  production,  it  is 
quite  obvious  that  nothing  but  the  best  of  plots  can  receive  even 
preliminary  consideration. 

PRODUCTIONS  WHICH  ARE  MADE  UP  AS  THEY  GO 

The  most  difficult  scenario  is  the  comedy.  It  is  comparatively 
easy  to  write  a  film  story  which  will  bring  tears  to  the  eyes  of  the 
audience,  but  it  is  not  always  possible  to  get  a  laugh  from  the 
same  audience.  The  creating  of  humorous  situations  calls  for 
considerable  thought;  and  even  an  idea  which  seems  laugh-pro- 
voking in  script  form  is  apt  to  fail  completely  when  projected 
on  the  screen. 

So  it  is  the  practice  of  leading  comedy  producers  to  work 
almost  without  a  script.  That  is  to  say,  their  scenarios  are  little 
more  than  the  general  outline  of  the  comedy.  From  the  first 
scene  to  the  last  the  players  themselves  and  the  dij;ector  to  some 
extent  are  depended  upon  to  create  comical  situations,  as  the 
mood  strikes  them,  in  order  that  the  entire  production  will  be  a 
steady  series  of  laughs.  Indeed,  the  whole  success  of  a  comedy 
depends  upon  this  one  factor:  keeping  the  audience  laughing  so 
that  they  have  no  time  to  think  about  the  incongruities  of  the 
story.  Almost  any  comedy,  if  it  were  examined  in  detail,  would 
prove  so  utterly  foolish  as  to  be  rather  a  drama  than  a  comedy ; 
but  when  flashed  at  the  rate  of  sixteen  pictures  per  second,  with 
one  scene  following  fast  on  the  heels  of  another,  the  audience 
simply  has  no  time  to  think.  It  merely  laughs  at  the  humorous 
situations  here  and  there. 

And  it  is  not  often  possible  to  write  a  complete  comedy 
scenario.     In  producing  a  comedy  the  actors  generally  find  it 


1 


THE  LUSITANIA  WAS  CONSTRUCTED  OF  WOOD.  COMPO-BOARD  AND  CAN- 
VAS   ON   A   VACANT   LOT   IN   THE   BRONX,    NEW   YORK   CITY 


16  Working  Plans  of  the  Motion  Picture 

necessary  to  have  light  acting  lierc  and  there  to  connect  up  the 
main  action.  This  light  acting  or  comedy  is  generally  taken  care 
of  by  the  old-time  comedians  about  the  studio,  who  are  employed 
for  just  such  purposes.  They  have  a  large  number  of  tricks  and 
space  fillers  which  they  bring  into  play,  and  in  this  manner  give 
the  leading  actors  ample  time  between  scenes  to  rest  up  and  again 
store  up  the  humor  which  must  be  part  of  them  in  executing  their 
roles. 

Broadly  speaking,  therefore,  most  comedy  films  are  practically 
produced  as  they  go. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  ARTIST  WHO  PAINTS 
THE  FILM   SUBJECTS 


CONSIDER  the  pholoplay  as  a  painting.  The 
players  or  figures  appear  on  the  screen  in  various  bits 
of  action.  The  picture,  unlike  those  on  canvas,  is 
animated;  and  it  changes  from  scene  to  scene  in  telling 
its  story.  But  who  paints  this  picture?  Who  places  the 
figures  about  and  who  gives  them  the  proper  animation? 
The  artist  is  none  other  than  the  director,  who  takes  the 
author's  script  and  translates  the  written  story  into  the 
animated  tableau  which  we  call  the  photoplay.  He  is  the 
directing  genius  of  the  films.  He  makes  the  fame  of 
many  a  screen  player.  His  imprint  is  evident  in 
many  of  his  players,  long  after  they  leave  his  fold.  All  of 
which  is  mentioned  here  in  order  properly  to  introduce 
the  big  man  behind  the  screen — the  director. 


18  The  Artist  Who  Paints  the  Film  Subjects 

SO  NATURALLY  do  the  screen  players  go  through  their 
parts  that  the  audience  is  generally  convinced  that  they  are 
entirely  responsible  for  the  success  of  the  photoplay.  In- 
deed, it  appears  that  the  players  are  acting  their  parts  with  the 
greatest  of  ease;  which  accounts,  in  large  measure,  for  the  thou- 
sands of  young  men  and  young  women  and  even  little  tots  who 
would  be  screen  stars. 

But  this  is  all  an  illusion.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  the 
actors  have  been  merely  carrying  out  the  directions  of  a  master 
mind,  which  in  this  case  is  that  of  the  director.  In  the  produc- 
tion of  a  photoplay  the  director  is  entirely  responsible  for  its 
success  or  failure,  granted  that  the  material  he  has  to  work  with 
— ^his  cast — is  satisfactory.  For  his  is  the  task  of  staging  each 
scene,  telling  the  actors  just  what  they  are  to  do,  showing  them 
how  to  do  it  in  many  instances,  and  then  seeing  that  they  do  it 
well  before  the  camera  records  the  action.  Contrary  to  what  the 
screen  impression  may  be,  the  director  is  the  man  who  pulls  the 
strings;  the  actors  are  generally  automatons.  Or  to  use  another 
analogy:  they  are  as  clay  in  the  hands  of  a  -sculptor  or  paint  at 
the  tip  of  the  artist's  brush.  He  moulds  them  into  any  desired 
shape  called  for  by  the  scenario  in  the  one  case,  and  places  and 
blends  them  on  his  canvas  to  conform  with  the  story  he  i^  telling, 
in  the  other. 

THE   ACTOR   AND    THE   DIRECTOR 

But  it  is  not  the  author's  intention  to  imply  that  motion-picture 
actors  do  not  have  to  think  for  themselves,  and  that  their  quali- 
fications can  be  of  a  low  order.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  screen 
requires  the  best  of  actors;  for  the  requirements,  differing  as 
they  do  from  those  of  the  legitimate  stage,  are  nevertheless  just 
as  exacting,  if  not  more  so. 

What  is  generally  overlooked  in  this  connection  is  that  the 
legitimate  stage  player  also  has  at  some  time  or  other  been  en- 
tirely under  the  direction  of  a  master  mind.  When  the  play  was 
first  rehearsed,  the  producer  carefully  took  up  each  line  of  the 
production  and  drilled  each  player  in  his  or  her  part  until  the  co- 
ordinated efforts  of  all  the  players  went  to  make  a  perfect  whole. 
Once  each  player  mastered  his  or  her  part,  of  course,  the  direc- 
tion was  no  longer  required,  hence  was  removed  by  the  time  the 
actors  went  out  before  their  audience. 


H 

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O  H 

O  H 
O 

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^t 

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2° 

g° 

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o 

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20  The  Artist  Who  Paints  the  Film  Subjects 


So  in  motion  pictures,  the  director  is  necessary  in  order  to 
coach  each  player  and  to  co-ordinate  the  efforts  of  the  entire  cast. 
Out  in  front  of  the  stage  or  set,  the  director  can  study  and  ar- 
range the  action  in  order  that  it  will  appear  to  the  best  advantage 
when  projected  on  the  screen.  In  truth,  part  and  parcel  of  the 
training  of  every  director  is  a  good  knowledge  of  the  motion- 
picture  camera ;  he  knows  what  are  the  limitations  and  possibili- 
ties of  film  photography  just  as  well  as  the  cameraman  at  his 
gide. 

Screen  players  there  are  who  have  the  ability  to  act  and  direct 
at  the  same  time.  But  of  the  hundreds  of  leading  players  of  the 
films,  one  can  count  on  the  fingers  of  one's  two  hands  the  players 
who  can  plaj^  in  and  direct  their  own  productions. 

It  is  far  more  common  for  a  talented  screen  player  to  aid  the 
director  materially  in  his  work.  For  instance,  in  the  case  of  a 
well-known  young  lady  who  heads  her  own  producing  company, 
she  not  only  goes  over  the  scenario  with  her  director  and  suggests 
changes  and  improvements  here  and  there,  but  she  actually 
directs  herself  in  difficult  parts  of  a  given  photoplay.  One  of  her 
favorite  methods  is  to  have  a  full-length  mirror  placed  in  front 
of  her,  so  that  she  can  rehearse  herself  time  and  again  until  she 
is  satisfied  with  her  interpretation  of  the  scenario  writer's  idea. 
Then  the  mirror  is  removed  and  the  cameraman  "shoots"  the 
scene. 

All  of  which  is  by  way  of  making  clear  that  the  relationship 
between  director  and  actor  is  most  friendly.  Film  actors  realize 
that  they  can  only  produce  their  best  work  when  guided  by  an 
experienced  director. 

WHAT    MAKES   A   DIRECTOR? 

There  is  no  sure  road  to  the  position  of  director  with  a  motion- 
picture  organization.  Some  directors  have  quite  naturally  drifted 
from  the  legitimate  stage  to  motion-picture  acting  and  then  to 
the  direction  of  productions.  That  seems  to  be  the  most  common 
road  to  this  profession.  But  then  there  are  others  who  have 
drifted  right  into  the  directing  end  from  other  professions  such 
as  engineering  or  medicine,  and  even  from  military  life.  One 
of  the  leading  directors  of  the  present  time  became  a  director 
without  previous  screen  experience:   he  had  been  conducting  a 


ABOVE:     DIRECTING     A     SCENE     ABOARD     A     SHIP.       BELOW:     GIVING 
INSTRUCTIONS    TO    THE    CAMERAMAN 


22  The  Artist  Who  Paints  the  Film  Subjects 

motion-picture  theater  when  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he 
would  rather  produce  than  exhibit  films.  So  he  applied  to  a  lead- 
ing concern,  and  in  a  short  time  was  placed  in  charge  of  a  com- 
pany of  players.  His  career  has  been  meteoric.  Today  he  is  the 
owner  of  a  large  producing  concern  which  bears  his  name. 

A  good  director  must  be  a  capable  executive.  It  is  therefore 
not  strange  to  find  many  of  the  present  directors  ex-Army  men. 
Used  to  handhng  men,  these  directors  make  out  well  in  their 
new-found  profession.  Then  again,  artists  and  sculptors  make 
excellent  directors,  for  after  all  the  directing  of  a  screen  play  is 
merely  the  skillful  placing  and  animating  of  the  characters 
so  that  they  will  form  pretty  and  convincing  pictures — pictures 
which  will  tell  their  story.  Newspaper  men  and  writers,  too, 
make  good  directors,  for  they  know  the  elements  of  story  telling. 
Whether  they  work  with  photographs  or  words,  the  essentials  of 
story  teUing  remain  the  same;  for  it  is  simply  a  change  in  the 
medium  of  expression. 

The  first  step  in  directing  a  photoplay  is  to  study  the  scenario. 
As  a  general  rule  the  director  receives  a  scenario  for  considera- 
tion; and  if,  after  reading  it  through,  he  believes  it  has  possi- 
bilities, he  reports  to  the  scenario  editor  to  that  effect.  Perhaps 
it  requires  certain  changes  to  improve  the  action.  At  any  rate, 
the  director  exercises  considerable  authority  over  the  selection 
and  arrangement  of  a  scenario,  since  he  is  the  one  who  must  con- 
vert it  into  a  successful  screen  play.  And  the  theme  is  the  very 
soul  of  any  screen  play. 

There  are  directors  who  write  most  of  their  plays.  Beginning 
with  a  simple  plot,  they  work  up  a  series  of  events  which,  when 
joined  together,  make  a  good  photoplay.  The  combination  of 
directorial  and  writing  abilities  is  ideal  in  the  extreme,  for  then 
the  same  mind  can  conceive  of  an  idea  and  carry  it  through  to 
realization.  No  one  will  gainsay  that  this  is  a  far  better  plan 
than  to  have  one  mind  prepare  the  story  and  another  interpret 
it.  And  films  written  and  produced  by  the  same  mind  are  gen- 
erally proof  of  the  merits  of  this  combination  of  talents. 

Once  the  scenario  is  prepared  for  the  director,  he  has  time  to 
study  it  in  detail  and  make  preparations  for  its  production.  The 
practice  in  most  companies  is  to  give  the  scenario  for  the  next 
production  to  the  director,  several  weeks  in  advance,  while  he 


^2 

s  > 


Jfcl^' w        .-^ 

24  The  Artist  Who  Paints  the  Film  Subjects 

is  still  working  on  the  preceding  production.  In  this  way  he  has 
plenty  of  time  to  turn  the  story  over  in  his  mind,  talk  it  over  with 
his  leading  actors,  and  arrange  for  the  indoor  and  outdoor  scenes. 
If  there  are  special  sets  to  be  erected,  he  can  give  the  order  to  the 
technical  director  who  is  in  charge  of  this  work;  and  likewise,  if 
special  costumes  are  required,  he  can  give  the  order  to  the  ward- 
robe department  for  such  garments  as  he  may  need. 

Once  through  with  the  production  he  has  had  in  hand,  he  im-- 
mediately  turns  to  the  new  one.  By  now  he  has  formulated  a 
broad  working  scheme,  so  that  he  is  prepared  to  take  his  players 
out  of  the  studio  and  grounds  and  to  some  distant  spot  or  "loca- 
tion" for  the  filming  of  certain  scenes,  or  film  the  indoor  scenes 
first. 

It  must  be  perfectly  obvious  to  all  who  have  given  some 
thought  to  photoplay  productions,  that  all  the  scenes  making  use 
of  the  same  background  or  ''location"  must  be  taken  at  the 
one  time.  Otherwise  one  could  well  imagine  the  difficulty  of  pro- 
ducing a  scenario  as  written;  that  is  to  say,  in  the  order  of 
sequence.  For  instance:  Scene  No.  1  might  be  a  room  in  a  flat. 
Scene  2  might  be  the  corner  saloon.  Scene  3,  say,  a  railroad  yard. 
Scene  4,  the  room  in  the  flat.  Scene  5,  the  same  background  as 
No.  2.  Scene  6,  the  same  as  No.  1.  Why,  then,  take  them  in  rota- 
tion and  oblige  the  players,  director  and  cameraman  to  go  from 
place  to  place  when  all  the  scenes  with  the  same  background 
could  be  taken  at  one  time?  Long  ago  the  picture  producers 
came  to  the  common-sense  idea  of  taking  all  scenes  with  the  same 
background  at  one  time  no  matter  if,  according  to  the  story, 
there  are  intervals  of  many  years  between  any  two  or  not. 

The  elaborated  working  scenario  generally  has  a  list  of  back- 
grounds and  the  numbers  of  the  scenes  which  make  use  of  each 
background.  The  director  decides  where  and  when  he  will  film 
each  batch  of  scenes.  On  clear  days  he  takes  his  company  afield 
or  out  "on  location,'  while  on  cloudy  and  stormy  days  he  works 
on  the  indoor  stage,  making  his  "interiors." 

THE   BUSINESS.  OF    FILMING    A    SCENE 

While  the  leading  man  and  lady  by  now  have  a  good  idea  of 
the  story  that  is  to  be  produced,  the  cast  as  a  whole  generally  has 
to  have  the  story  explained.     Right  here,  however,  are  to  be 


20 The  Artist  Who  Paints  the  Film  Subjects 

found  two  totally  different  schools  of  directors:  the  average 
director  usually  explains  the  film  story  to  his  players  in  order 
that  they  will  understand  the  relation  of  any  given  scene  to  the 
entire  photoplay ;  but  there  is  another  type  of  director,  the  abso- 
lute disciplinarian  type,  we  might  call  him,  who  believes  in  keep- 
ing the  players  in  total  ignorance  as  to  the  film  story.  The  plea 
of  the  latter  school  of  directors  is  that  the  players,  if  uninformed 
as  to  the  theme  of  the  play,  are  more  apt  to  follow  directions  with 
great  fidelity;  whereas,  if  they  were  told  the  nature  of  the  play, 
they  would  be  tempted  here  and  there  to  introduce  some  of  their 
own  interpretations  and  thus  fail  to  work  in  absolute  concert 
with  the  director.  As  to  the  merits  of  the  two  schools,  the 
results  apparently  indicate  that  it  is  largely  a  matter  of  opinion. 
In  either  event  the  director  informs  his  players  at  the  begin- 
ning of  each  scene  what  the  immediate  action  is  to  be.  He  tells 
his  players  how  to  act  their  respective  roles,  with  particular 
suggestions  when  needed.  Then  he  puts  the  players  through  the 
action  once,  while  he  scans  every  move.  Perhaps  this  rehearsal 
may  be  satisfactory  the  first  time;  but  as  likely  as  not  he  has 
corrections  to  make  and  the  action  starts  all  over  again.  While 
the  players  go  through  their  parts  he  stands  behind  the  camera 
and  coaches  them.  Sometimes  the  action  is  so  simple  that  no 
rehearsal  is  necessary;  but  as  a  general  thing  it  is  rehearsed  a 
number  of  times  before  it  is  filmed. 

Once  the  director  is  satisfied  with  the  way  his  players  in- 
terpret a  scene,  he  calls  for  the  lights  (if  the  scene  is  in  the  studio) 
and  gives  the  order  to  the  cameraman  to  film  the  action.  At 
the  command  "Action!  Camera!  Go!"  the  players  start  work 
as  if  electrified,  while  the  cameraman  cranks  away.  ''Cut!"  is 
the  usual  command  which  orders  the  cameraman  to  stop  and  the 
scene  is  considered  finished.  Even  while  the  filming  is  taking 
place  the  director  often  coaches  his  players;  and  it  is  a  rare 
tribute  to  the  players  that  they  are  able  to  follow  out  such  sug- 
gestions even  while  acting  for  the  camera,  without  betraying 
any  signs  of  coaching  on  the  screen. 

Scene  after  scene  the  director  stages  and  has  filmed,  while  all 
the  time  his  negative  film  is  piling  up  in  the  fireproof  vaults. 
He  keeps  careful  record  of  what  he  has  taken  and  what  remains 
to  be  taken;  and  at  last,  despite  jumping  from  one  part  of  the 


ABOVE:    DIRECTING    A    THRILLING    WATER    SCENE. 
THE  VILLAIN  PEEPS  "DOWNSTAIRS' 


BELOW:    WHEN 


28  The  Artist  Who  Paints  the  Film  Subjects 

story  to  the  other — producing  a  scene  at  the  very  end,  then  the 
opening,  then  a  scene  just  before  the  cUmax,  then  an  early  scene 
— he  finally  succeeds  in  closing  up  the  gaps  and  completing  the 
story. 

One  thing  that  must  be  watched  every  moment  of  the  time 
when  producing  a  film  is  the  so-called  continuity.  By  taking  the 
scenes  in  what  appears  a  haphazard  and  careless  manner  and  yet, 
in  truth,  is  the  most  practical  way,  errors  of  the  most  foolish  sort 
often  creep  into  certain  scenes  despite  the  utmost  vigilance.  As 
an  example:  In  one  scene,  an  interior,  a  player  is  depicted  leav- 
ing the  room  in  a  plain  dress,  while  in  the  next  scene,  when  the 
film  is  joined  together,  the  same  player  is  shown  coming  out  on 
the  porch  wearing  an  apron.  Such  errors  must  be  avoided,  for 
they  are  quickly  detected  by  the  keen-eyed  audience  of  today 
and  cause  no  end  of  ridicule — and  loss  of  prestige. 

EDITING   THE  PHOTOPLAY 

Now  the  director  turns  his  attention  to  the  assembling  of  his 
various  scenes.  Again  in  this  as  in  other  phases  of  cinematog- 
raphy, there  are  no  set  rules.  Each  company  has  its  own  method 
of  procedure,  although  they  all  lead  to  the  same  results. 

No  matter  how  capable  may  have  been  the  actors  and  how 
excellent  the  direction  of  the  photoplay,  its  success  is  neverthe- 
less at  stake  in  the  cutting  room  where  it  is  edited.  Every  scene 
must  be  gone  over  with  a  view  to  trimming  unnecessary  action, 
since  this  only  serves  to  bore  the  audience,  although  at  the  time 
the  scene  was  filmed  the  superfluous  action  may  have  seemed 
quite  necessary  to  the  director.  In  the  trimming  operation  much 
film  is  thrown  away.  For  the  average  5,000-foot  feature  film  at 
least  10,000  feet  of  negative  film  may  be  exposed ;  yet  the  greatly 
curtailed  production  which  the  public  sees  always  appears  quite 
complete.  In  gigantic  productions  the  wastage  is  tremendous; 
in  one  spectacular  photoplay  a  total  of  110,000  feet  of  negative 
was  exposed,  of  which  but  10,000  feet  was  used  in  the  screen 
version. 

But  all  the  film  thrown  out  of  a  picture  is  not  wasted.  Pro- 
gressive producers  often  make  use  of  the  so-called  cut-outs  in 
making  other  features,  especially  when  a  well-known  player  is 
featured. 


ABOVE ; 


DIRECTING   A    LARGE    OUTDOOR    SCENE. 
A  SCENE  "ON  LOCATION" 


BELOW:   DIRECTING 


30 The  Artist  Who  Paints  the  Film  Subjects 

One  excellent  method  of  editing  film  is  to  give  the  girl  as- 
semblers a  layout  which  they  follow,  cementing  the  various  strips 
in  their  proper  order  with  the  titles  represented  merely  by  num- 
bers, corresponding  to  numbered  titles  on  a  sheet  of  paper.  The 
film,  either  in  more  or  less  complete  form,  is  then  projected  on  a 
screen,  while  a  clerk  reads  off  the  title  as  the  corresponding 
number  is  thrown  on  the  screen.  In  this  manner  the  director  can 
view  his  own  work,  suggesting  alterations  here  and  there  and 
making  any  changes  he  wishes  in  his  titles  before  they  are  actu- 
ally set  up  in  type  and  photographed.  In  large  organizations  the 
film  IS  generally  reviewed  by  other  directors,  including  the  head 
producer,  who  freely  offer  their  suggestions  and  criticisms.  It 
is  here  that  any  inconsistencies  or  scenes  which  fall  below  the 
required  standard  are  detected  and  ordered  remade. 

Once  approved  of,  the  master  reel  is  made  up  and  is  then  used 
as  the  standard  for  the  assembly  of  the  numerous  copies  by  deft- 
fingered  girl  assemblers. 

THE  DIRECTOR  IS   BECOMING   A   SPECIALIST 

With  the  gradual  improvement  in  photoplay  production, 
marked  changes  have  perforce  taken  place  in  the  personnel  of 
producing  concerns.  That  is  to  say,  whereas  the  director  of  the 
early  days  did  pretty  nearly  everything  from  painting  his  own 
scenery  to  turning  the  camera  crank,  the  profession  has  become " 
highly  specialized  of  late  years. 

Not  so  long  ago  the  director  supervised  the  painting  and 
building  of  every  set  required  in  his  production.  He  had  to  be 
posted  on  history,  architecture,  customs  of  foreign  lands,  and 
other  details  connected  with  the  accurate  portrayal  of  scenes  out 
of  the  ordinary.  Your  director  of  today,  however,  leaves  these 
details  to  the  art  director  or  technical  director,  in  whose  province 
these  duties  naturally  fall.  He  merely  tells  the  technical  director 
what  the  scenario  calls  for,  and  the  latter  attends  to  the  rest. 
And  if  present-day  films  represent  the  acme  of  accuracy  in  their 
divers  portrayals,  it  is  largely  because  the  technical  director  is 
on  the  job. 

Your  director  of  bygone  days  was  wont  to  ride  about  in  a  fast 
automobile,  seeking  his  own  locations.  He  spent  much  time  in 
these  searches,  for  he  had  no  elaborate  list  of  locations  neatly  and 


2h 


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*^  o 


'32  The  Artist  Who  Paints  the  Film  Subjects 

conveniently  indexed.  Today  he  tells  the  location  man  what  he 
wants.  And  said  gentleman  goes  to  his  files  and  hunts  up  his 
selections  of  the  category  in  question.  Perhaps  he  has  a  dozen 
locations  of  that  particular  nature,  and  as  likely  as  not  he  has 
snapshots  of  each.  These  he  presents  to  the  director,  who  can 
make  his  selection  without  spending  valuable  time  in  searching 
on  his  own  account. 

Then  too  your  director  used  to  select  his  own  players,  one  by 
one,  from  among  the  hundreds  who  will  forever  flock  to  the 
studio  every  day  that  films  are  made.  If  he  needed  Irish  labor- 
ers, policemen,  soldiers,  nurse-girls,  nuns,  circus  hands  or  butlers, 
he  personally  went  among  the  would-be  filmites  and  selected  such 
persons  as  suited  his  immediate  requirements.  Now  he  goes  to  a 
casting  director.  He  tells  him  what  he  will  require  the  next  day. 
The  casting  director  looks  up  his  types  in  a  card  index  system.  A 
post  card  or  telephone  call  brings  the  various  types  to  the  casting 
room  the  next  day,  and  they  are  sent  to  the  director. 

So  in  every  other  matter  the  director  has  had  those  extra  details 
taken  away  from  him,  until  presently  his  task  is  purely  one  of 
directing  the  players  under  his  direct  charge.  There  are  spe- 
cialists at  his  beck  and  call  for  all  the  other  phases  of  the  film 
producing  business.  And  being  withal  a  practical  man,  he  is  not 
slow  to  make  the  utmost  use  of  them. 

Such,  then,  is  the  director,  the  man  behind  the  screen.  He 
makes  the  photoplay.  Yet  how  often  does  the  audience  give  him 
a  moment's  thought? 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  REAL  ROLE  OF  THE 
PICTURE  ACTOR 


^fCREEN  ading  and  stage  acting  arc  two  totallij 
i^  dijjerent  things.  There  is  as  much  art  in  one  as  there 
is  in  the  other;  and  accordingly  the  honors  should 
be  about  evenly  divided.  With  the  development  of  the 
photoplay  from  its  crude  beginnings  to  its  present  high 
state  of  perfection,  more  and  more  has  been  expected  of  the 
screen  actor.  Today  none  but  the  best  artists  of  the 
histrionic  art  is  admitted  to  the  screen  stage.  But  the 
screen  star  is  not  the  only  one  concerned  in  producing  a 
photoplay;  nor  is  he  or  she  entitled  to  all  the  credit.  The 
screen  player  is  but  a  part  of  the  photoplay  organization. 


34  The  Real  Role  of  the  Picture  Actor 

ALWAYS  will  the  actor  occupy  first  place  in  the  minds  and 
hearts  of  the  screen  audience.  It  is  unavoidable.  For, 
.  after  all,  it  is  the  leading  player  or  ''star"  and  his  or  her 
v'^^upporting  players  who  appear  before  the  audience  and  public. 
They  are  the  photoplay. 

In  the  pioneer  photoplays  the  actors  were  generally  hired  for 
each  picture  at  so  much  per  day  or  per  week — a  sum  which,  in 
most  instances,  would  hardly  be  acceptable  to  an  ''extra"  today. 
Players  came  and  went  from  one  picture  to  the  next ;  and  in  con- 
sequence the  screen  public  never  became  "acquainted"  with  in- 
dividual players.  Those  were  the  days  when  films  were  known 
by  their  trade  marks  and  not  by  their  players. 

Then,  wdth  better  direction  and  an  all-round  improvement  in 
the  photoplay  art,  certain  accomplished  players  soon  forged 
ahead  to  the  very  forefront  of  the  screen.  The  public  began  to 
take  notice.  Questions  were  asked,  few  at  first,  but  more  numer- 
ous and  persistent  as  time  went  on.  Everyone  wanted  to  know 
who  was  the  little  blonde  in  a  certain  brand  of  pictures;  and  who 
was  the  tall,  slender  man  in  such  and  such  a  picture;  and  who 
played  the  role  of  a  Confederate  Colonel  in  a  certain  Civil  War 
photoplay,  and  so  on. 

The  more  progressive  producers  did  not  hesitate  to  give  all  the 
information  asked  for.  Here  and  there  certain  producers  obsti- 
nately refused  to  do  so,  assuming  the  attitude  that  it  was  none 
of  the  public's  business  in  the  first  place,  and  in  the  second  it 
might  lead  to  making  certain  players  famous  and  hence  attractive 
to  other  producers. 

At  about  this  time  the  first  of  the  so-called  "fan"  magazines, 
or  periodicals  appealing  to  the  motion-picture  devotees,  began 
to  appear  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  the  screen  audience  into 
more  intimate  contact  with  the  screen  players. 

So  it  came  about  that  certain  players  became  famous.  The 
independent  producers,  as  distinguished  from  the  old  established 
companies,  operating  under  license  granted  by  a  corporation  hold- 
ing important  basic  patents  which  debarred  all  would-be  pro- 
ducers for  a  long  time,  immediately  catered  to  the  public  in  the 
matter  of  giving  information.  At  a  time  when  only  certain  for- 
eign films  were  offered  with  a  cast  or  list  of  players,  certain  of 
our  independent  producers  came  out  with  casts  for  each  of  their 


36  The  Real  Role  of  the  Picture  Actor 

films.    The  idea  was  successful  from  the  first,  and  one  by  one  the 
producers  came  around  to  it. 

DIVIDING   UP    THE    CREDIT   ALL   AROUND 

With  the  advent  of  the  so-called  feature  film,  the  ''star"  of  the 
screen  came  into  existence.  Instead  of  offering  a  film  under  a 
trade  mark  or  name,  the  practice  soon  got  to  be  the  offering  of  a 
photoplay  under  the  name  of  a  well-known  player.  And  this 
very  practice  started  the  great  war  among  producers  for  ''stars," 
or  rather,  "names." 

A  certain  young  man  conceived  the  idea  of  producing  multiple 
reel  photoplays,  each  introducing  some  w^ell-known  "star"  of  the 
legitimate  stage.  But  he  was  confronted  by  the  fact  that  the 
foremost  actors  and  actresses  considered  it  far  below  their  posi- 
tion to  act  in  the  "movies."  Finally  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
induce  the  greatest  player  in  the  world  to  appear  before  his 
camera  in  order  to  establish  a  precedent  which  every  actor  and 
actress  could  sooner  or  later  take  advantage  of.  So  he  went 
to  France  and  induced  the  great  Sarah  Bernhardt  herself  to  play 
the  part  of  Queen  Elizabeth  in  a  historical  photoplay. 

Of  course,  no  player  could  refuse  to  appear  in  motion  pictures 
after  the  "Divine  Sarah"  had  given  her  approval  in  full.  One 
by  one  of  the  greatest  names  in  the  world  of  players  appeared 
before  the  camera.  And  finally,  the  public  became  so  accustomed 
to  famous  stage  names  that  every  photoplay  of  the  feature 
variet}^  was  introduced  solely  on  the  drawing  value  of  the  leading 
player;  that  is  to  say,  Mr.  John  Jones  (in  very  small  type) 
presents  HERBERT  COGSWELL  APPLEBY  (in'^gigantic  type) 
in  the  recent  stage  success,  "Married  Without  Knowing  It"  (in 
fair  sized  type) ! 

Today  we  have  the  "star"  system,  as  it  is  known  among  pro- 
ducers themselves.  Everything  revolves  about  the  "star."  Pro- 
ducers scramble  over  one  another,  literally  speaking,  in  order  to 
obtain  the  greatest  "stars."  True,  many  "stars"  have  ability  of 
the  highest  kind ;  but  it  is  equally  within  the  confines  of  truth  to 
call  attention  to  many  so-called  "stars"  who  possess  little  ability. 
Such  "stars"  are  of  the  synthetic  variety:  they  have  been  created 
mostly  through  hard  working  press  agents  and  capable  directors. 

One  result  of  the  present  "star"  system  is  to  exploit  the  "star" 


ABOVE:     DIRECTOR     AND     ACTRESS     TALKING     IT     OVER.      BELOW:     A 
PRACTICAL     DEMONSTRATION     BY     THE     DIRECTOR 


The  Real  Role  of  the  Picture  Actor 


of  a  feature  play  to  a  point  where  the  photophiy  is  ridiculous. 
The  supporting  players  are  always  kept  in  the  background;  and, 
indeed,  the  picture  becomes  nothing  more  than  a  plague  of  ani- 
mated portraits  of  the  "star."  There  is  also  the  tendency  to 
''pad"  such  photoplays  to  such  lengths  that  the  interest  lags. 

It  is  the  problem  of  the  industry  today  to  find  a  way  out  of  the 
''star"  evil.  For  it  is  recognized  that  good  photoplays  could  be 
produced  by  capable  players  grouped  in  suitable  permanent  com- 
panies, under  the  skilled  direction  of  capable  directors,  and  with 
the  usual  talent  of  all  those  who  go  to  make  the  photoplays,  such 
as  the  cameraman,  scenario  writer,  title  editor,  scene  artist,  and 
so  on.  Thus  photoplays  would  be  based  on  merit  and  not  on 
"names";  and  everyone  in  the  industry,  excepting  of  course  the 
"stars"  who  are  now  asking  fabulous  sums  for  their  work,  would 
be  better  off,  especially  the  exhibitor  who  has  to  pay  high  rentals 
for  his  films.  However  that  may  be,  the  great  question  of  the  art 
today  is  the  solution  of  the  "star"  evil. 

Some  time  ago  producers  began  the  practice  of  giving  credit 
to  others  besides  the  players.  Now  it  is  common  practice  for  a 
producer  to  mention  the  name  of  the  director  and  possibly  the 
assistant  director,  the  scenario  writer,  the  art  director,  the  cam- 
eraman, and  so  on.  At  last  the  credit  is  being  divided  up  a  bit; 
and  in  the  future  it  may  be  evened  up  far  more  than  we  dare  now 
believe  is  possible.  The  practice  is  commendable:  the  public 
should  be  made  to  realize  that  the  player  is  but  a  part  of  the 
producing  force  and  by  no  means  the  beginning  and  end  and  the 
whole  thing. 

HOW   SCREEN   ACTING  DIFFERS   FROM   STAGE  ACTING 

Acting  before  the  camera  and  acting  before  a  theatre  audience 
are  two  totally  different  things.  The  principal  difference,  of 
course,  is  that  one  is  an  example  of  the  pantomime  art,  while  the 
other  is  conventional  acting ;  one  is  totally  silent,  while  the  other 
permits  the  use  of  speech.  Broadly  speaking,  that  is  the  main 
difference. 

But  when  the  matter  comes  to  be  studied  in  greater  detail, 
the  differences  increase  in  number.  On  the  stage  the  player  has 
a  comparatively  large  space  in  which  to  maneuver,  while  the 
photoplayer  has  a  very  limited  space.     A  stage  may  measure 


ABOVE:  WHEN  THE  DIRECTOR  EXPLAINS   A  BIT  OF  ACTION.    BELOW: 
" AND    PUT    SOME    PEP    INTO    IT  1" 


40  The  Real  I^ole  of  the  Picture  Actor 

fifty  feet  across  and  thirty  feet  in  depth  and  be  considered  a  small 
stage,  while  a  motion-picture  set  may  measure  ten  feet  across 
and  ten  feet  deep  and  be  considered  plenty  large  enough  for  a 
certain  bit  of  action.  Again,  the  working  shapes  of  the  two  stages 
differ:  the  motion-picture  set  becomes  wider  the  farther  one  gets 
from  the  camera,  while  the  legitimate  stage  becomes  narrower 
the  farther  one  gets  from  the  footlights. 

For  players  coming  direct  from  the  theatre  to  the  motion- 
picture  studio  this  matter  of  working  room  is  quite  confusing. 
A  stage  player  is  at  first  constantly  overstepping  the  limits  of  the 
camera  field,  and  is  seriously  cramped  for  room.  But  like  so 
many  other  things  it  is  a  matter  of  practice,  and  one  soon  gets 
accustomed  to  the  new  order  of  acting. 

Then  there  is  the  matter  of  working  under  a  director,  who  tells 
the  player  just  what  to  do  as  we  have  learned  from  the  preceding 
chapter.  But  directors  are  exceedingly  tactful  and  skillful  in 
handling  players,  ranging  from  the  Broadway  favorite  to  the 
unknown  ''extra,"  and  as  a  general  thing  little  difficulty  is  en- 
countered in  this  direction. 

The  absence  of  an  audience  is  quite  trying  to  some  stage 
players.  Particularly  is  the  absence  of  applause  felt  by  those 
who  for  years  have  appeared  on  the  legitimate  stage.  It  is  pre- 
cisely the  same  state  of  affairs  as  the  opera  singer  who  under- 
takes his  first  phonograph  record.  Again  the  absence  of  the  audi- 
ence is  seriously  felt,  and  more  than  one  singer  develops  an  attack 
of  ''phonograph  fright,"  which  must  be  overcome. 

As  for  acting  proper,  there  is  considerable  difference.  It  would 
at  first  be  supposed  that  the  absence  of  dialogue  is  a  serious 
handicap;  yet  in  practice  it  appears  to  count  for  little,  except  in 
some  cases  where  players  have  depended  unduly  on  their  voice 
or  manner  of  speech.  There  is  much  pantomime  in  photoplay 
acting,  but  it  is  not  precisely  "silent"  drama,  as  it  is  so  often 
called.  For  the  players  must  "learn  their  lines"  just  as  they  do 
in  legitimate  productions.  There  was  a  time  when  they  did  not 
speak  their  parts,  and  the  acting  was  far  from  realistic  in  conse- 
quence. Today  the  players  speak  their  parts,  or  at  least  move 
their  lips  when  they  are  supposed  to  speak.  And  in  tliat  way  the 
absence  of  speech  only  exists  on  the  screen,  and  there  it  is  readily 
counterbalanced  bv  well-handled  titles. 


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42  The  Real  Role  of  the  Picture  Actor 

The  profuse  employment  of  the  close-up  effect  has  a  material 
influence  on  acting.  On  the  stage  the  player  is  removed  by  many 
feet  from  his  audience;  but  when  appearing  in  a  motion-picture 
close-up  he  is  brought  to  within  a  half-dozen  feet  of  the  audience 
— a  veritable  tete-a-tete,  so  to  speak.  The  acting  must  be  more 
restrained  than  it  would  be  on  the  stage,  where  distance  makes 
it  imperative  to  emphasize  certain  bits  of  action.  The  reason- 
why  a  screen  player  often  appears  ridiculous  in  certain  scenes  is 
through  his  lack  of  appreciation  of  the  closeness  of  his  audience. 
There  is  also  the  matter  of  photography — motion-picture  photog- 
raphy. If  certain  bits  of  action  are  carried  out  at  normal  rates, 
the  player's  figure  may  be  partially  or  wholly  blurred  when 
photographed  close-up.  Slowness  of  movement  must  therefore  be 
practiced  under  certain  conditions.  The  matter  of  speed  is  an 
all-important  one  in  photoplay  acting,  and  is  best  mastered 
through  long  experience. 

WHAT  IS   A   CAMERA   FACE? 

It  is  given  to  some  persons  to  photograph  well  anywhere  and 
everywhere,  while  others  never  seem  able  to  secure  a  good  and 
pleasing  likeness  of  themselves.  In  motion  pictures  a  player 
must  photograph  well  every  time,  for  that  is  precisely  what  he 
or  she  is  hired  for.  So  one  of  the  prerequisites  of  a  photoplayer  is 
a  "camera  face." 

What  is  a  camera  face?  It  is  hard  to  define.  Persons  who 
know  much  about  photoplay  faces  claim  that  they  have  long 
ago  ceased  to  attempt  an  answer.  It  used  to  be  said  that  a 
camera  face  was  that  of  a  person  with  dark,  regular  features, 
and  dark  eyes;  yet  so  many  very  blond  women  with  small  fea- 
tures have  become  photoplay  "stars,"  that  the  riddle  remains 
unsolved. 

In  everyday  life  a  slightly  bent  nose  or  a  little  droop  of  the 
mouth  or  a  peculiar  angle  of  the  eyebrows  may  add  charm  and 
character  to  a  face,  yet  on  the  screen  these  lines  may  have  a  quite 
opposite  effect.  Wrinkles  which  might  go  unnoticed  in  everyday 
life  are  accentuated  in  a  most  alarming  manner  by  the  camera 
in  "close-ups."  As  to  eyes,  certain  shades  of  blue  will  not  do 
at  all,  and  as  a  general  thing  black  eyes  photograph  dull  and 
lifeless.    Brown  eyes  are  better,  while  blue-green  eyes  with  a  rim 


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44 The  Real  Role  of  the  Picture  Actor 

of  yellow  around  the  pupil,  are  best  of  all,  as  they  retain  their 
expression  and  animation.  Black  hair  does  not  photograph  as 
well  as  brown,  red  and  blond,  although  much  depends  upon  the 
shade  and  quality. 

A  camera  face,  or  the  gift  of  photographing  pleasingly,  is  a 
great  asset  to  a  person  seeking  an  opening  in  photoplay  acting. 
Many  a  well-known  "star"  of  today  entered  in  the  industry  with- 
out previous  experience  because  he  or  she  possessed  a  camera 
face.  As  often  as  not  such  persons  were  singled  out  from  among 
a  crowd  of  ''extras,"  granted  a  tryout  before  the  camera,  and 
then  taken  in  hand  after  proving  good  photographic  types.  But 
a  camera  face  is  only  a  desirable,  but  not  imperative,  qualification 
of  the  photoplay er;  and  one  well-known  director  hastens  to  as- 
sure us  that  the  art  can  make  more  of  a  good  actor  without  a 
camera  face  than  of  a  wonderful  photographic  type  without  any 
abihty  for  acting. 

THE   GENTLE   ART   OF   FACIAL   CAMOUFLAGE 

Makeup  covers  a  multitude  of  sins  or  shortcomings  or  call 
them  what  you  please.  With  the  aid  of  a  makeup  expert  any 
face  can  be  made  over  until  it  is  more  or  less  of  a  camera  face; 
at  least,  it  photographs  reasonably  well. 

An  interesting  problem  in  makeup  arises  in  certain  scenes 
where  a  pronounced  blond  appears  with  one  or  more  very  dark 
players.  Obviously,  the  blond  type  reflects  more  light  than  the 
brunettes,  hence  in  the  regular  course  of  events  a  film  would  be 
produced  which,  when  developed,  would  either  have  the  blond 
correctly  depicted,  but  the  brunettes  appearing  like  colored  folk, 
or  the  brunettes  correct  and  the  blond  represented  by  a  chalky 
oval.  It  is  simply  a  matter  of  excessive  contrast.  In  such  a  case 
it  is  necessary  for  the  blond  to  use  one  of  the  heavier  grease  paints 
so  as  to  render  her  face  less  actinic  and  photographically  closer 
to  the  brunettes. 

Some  "stars"  refuse  to  make  up  according  to. the  cameraman's 
directions.  In  which  case  it  becomes  necessary  to  resort  to  cer- 
tain lighting  effects  to  secure  the  desired  results.  By  means  of 
spot  lights  it  is  possible  to  apply  the  correct  illumination  for  each 
player,  so  as  to  average  up  all  the  players  in  one  scene  from  the 
cameraman's  point  of  view. 


46  The  Real  Bole  of  the  Picture  Actor 

Photoplay  makeup  cannot  be  studied  in  a  mirror,  despite  the 
very  stubborn  will  of  some  "stars"  to  abide  by  that  criterion. 
All  facial  camouflage  which  is  to  appear  before  the  camera  must 
bs  translated  into  the  black-and-white  language  of  photography, 
and  until  that  has  been  done  no  makeup  is  of  any  value.  A 
beautiful  face  in  actual  colors  may  prove  a  perfect  fright  on  the 
screen;  and  so  all  questions  of  makeup  are  generally  decided  by 
the  cameraman. 

It  is  really  wonderful  what  can  be  accomplished  by  the  painless 
surgery  of  the  screen  in  the  matter  of  facial  beauty.  A  crooked 
nose,  for  instance,  need  not  come  in  contact  with  the  knife  or  be 
puffed  up  with  paraffin  in  order  to  be  straightened^  If  one  side 
of  the  nose  is  too  heavy  a  little  pink  grease  paint  will  tone  it 
down.  A  bent  ridge  may  be  straightened  by  running  a  straight 
highlight  with  grease  paint.  A  flat  nose  can  be  made  beautiful 
by  shading  the  sides  with  pink  grease  paint  and  highlighting  the 
ridge.  A  long  nose  can  be  cut  down  a  quarter  of  an  inch  or  half 
an  inch  with  the  aid  of  a  pink  tip. 

Round  faces  and  long  faces  can  be  altered  to  suit  requirements 
by  the  shifting  of  pink  grease  areas.  Indeed,  an  entire  book  could 
be  written  on  the  wonderful  makeup  of  the  screen. 

And  camouflage  does  not  stop  with  the  face.  Shortcomings 
of  Nature  as  evinced  in  certain  imperfections  of  one's  figure  can 
be  rectified  by  various  forms  of  deception,  ranging  from  the  art 
of  the  wardrobe  mistress  to  the  placing  of  the  lighting  stands. 

There's  no  use  denying  the  old  saying,  "You  never  can  tell!" 
When  it  comes  to  comparing  the  beauty  of  a  certain  photoplay 
"star"  with  that  of  your  best  girl,  play  ^'safe."  Give  your  best 
girl  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  You  see  her  as  she  really  is:  she  has 
no  spot  lights  to  wipe  out  wrinkles,  no  grease  paint  to  take  off 
some  of  her  nose,  no  camouflage  spots  to  give  her  face  a  pleasing 
roundness.  But  in  the  case  of  the.  photoplay  beauty,  well,  "You 
nefer  can  tell!!" 

HOW   THEY   GOT   INTO   THE   "mOVIES" 

There  is  no  standard  formula  for  getting  into  the  "movies." 
If  there  were,  a  person  might  make  a  fortune  dispensing  the 
formula  to  the  tens  of  thousands  of  film  aspirants,  ranging  from 
the  fourteen-year  old  school  girl  in  love  with  a  certain  film  hero 


Oh3 

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48  The  Real  Role  of  the  Picture  Actor 

to  the  grandmother  of  fifty-odd  who  has  suddenly  discovered  her 
latent  histrionic  talent. 

In  the  early  days  almost  anyone  who  was  expressive  with  his 
hands  and  face  could  enter  the  "movies"  at  a  salary  of  $15  a 
week  or  better.  But  as  the  art  became  firmly  established,  the 
requirements  of  screen  acting  became  more  severe,  until  today 
it  is  difficult  in  the  extreme  to  "break  into  the  photoplay  game." 

Some  persons  drift  into  motion  pictures  merely  through  chance. 
The  story  is  told  of  one  young  man,  who  is  now  one  of  the  lesser 
"stars,"  who  secured  his  initial  engagement  because  of  his  clothes. 
Alw^ays  a  good  dresser,  he  appeared  day  after  day  in  the  cast 
room  of  a  certain  studio.  One  day  the  cast  director  was  in  need 
of  a  wTll-dressed  young  man,  and  as  luck  would  have  it  he 
selected  this  young  man.  It  so  proved  that  the  young  man  had 
ability,  and  he  rose  rapidly  in  the  art.  Others  have  secured  their 
initial  opportunity  in  equally  odd  and  chance  ways. 

Some  have  come  direct  from  the  stage  to  the  "movies,"  and  it 
must  be  said  that  they  have  the  one  great  advantage  of  knowing 
how  to  act.  Everything  else  being  equal,  a  director  naturally 
prefers  a  stage  actor,  because  his  instructions  are  bound  to  be 
carried  out  more  readily. 

While  not  possessing  any  special  talent  or  experience,  a  person 
who  is  unusual  in  some  one  respect  can  generally  get  into  the 
pictures  sooner  or  later.  An  exceptionally  tall  man,  for  instance, 
can  find  an  engagement  when  a  firm  is  about  to  produce  some 
fairy  story  or  comedy  calling  for  such  a  character.  A  thin  man, 
a  fat  man,  a  short  man,  and  any  other  out-of-the-ordinary  man 
or  woman  can  secure  an  opportunity  to  appear  before  the  camera 
because  he  or  she  is  a  rare  "type." 

But  for  plain  mortals  the  road  to  photoplay  success  is  a  long 
and  cruel  one.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  taking  up  a  course  in 
some  motion-picture  correspondence  school  and  then  going  to  a 
studio  and  securing  a  position  as  leading  man  or  lady.  All  such 
schools  are  nothing  more  or  less  than  quacks. 

The  only  way  to  enter  a  studio — barring  influence  with  some 
one  in  the  industry — is  to  go  to  the  casting  room  day  by  day, 
waiting  for  an  opportunity  as  an  "extra."  If  one  perseveres  in 
these  daily  visits,  the  casting  director  is  almost  bound  to  take 
such  a  person  as  an  "extra"  sooner  or  later;  and  that  is  the 


ABOVE:    THIS    GIANT    GOT    INTO    PICTURES     BECAUSE    OF    HIS    SIZE. 
BELOW:  REAL  PLAYERS  IN  REEL  WORK      ^ 


50  The  Real  Role  of  the  Picture  Actor 

opportunity  to  show  one's  capabilities.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is 
that  film  companies  have  all  the  players  they  need ;  their  waiting 
lists  number  hundreds  if  not  thousands  of  trained  and  semi- 
trained  players  who  can  be  called  at  any  time. 

GETTING   CHILDREN    TO   ACT 

About  the  most  difficult  task  a  director  can  expect  to  under- 
take is  the  directing  of  children.  All  producing  companies  have 
certain  children  whom  they  can  call  upon  at  short  notice,  which 
accounts  for  the  disappointment  which  is  bound  to  be  met  by  fond 
mothers  who  would  see  their  little  Billie  Boy  and  blue-eyed 
Magnolia  in  the  ''movies." 

There  are  certain  children  actors  who  possess  remarkable 
talent.  Generally  born  of  actor  parents,  these  children  act  with 
the  greatest  ease.  Still,  they  are  children  at  heart;  and  it  often 
requires  the  greatest  tact  and  diplomacy  on  the  part  of  the  di- 
rector to  urge  them  to  act.  Like  other  children  they  have  their 
moods  and  their  pouts.  All  sorts  of  subterfuges  must  be  resorted 
to  in  order  to  get  these  children  to  act  at  times.  So  the  credit 
due  the  director  is  all  the  greater  in  the  case  of  child  players. 

Some  directors  have  gone  in  for  child  plays  and  with  truly 
remarkable  success.  Two  brothers  in  particular  have  directed 
plays  in  which  the  casts  have  been  almost  entirely  made  up  of 
children,  and  it  has  been  indeed  difficult  to  realize,  when  viewing 
these  pictures  on  the  screen,  that  not  a  single  actor,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  few  taking  the  rather  unimportant  roles  of  adults, 
exceeded  eight  or  ten  years  of  age. 

While  dealing  with  child  pictures  it  is  well  to  add  a  few  words 
regarding  the  taking  of  a  child's  role  by  an  adult  player.  One  is 
often  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  ease  and  realism  with  which  a 
well-known  adult  player  takes  the  part  of  a  little  girl  or  boy  at 
the  beginning  of  a  photoplay,  and  then  assumes  a  grown-up  rolo 
later  on.  The  realistic  effect  is  largely  a  matter  of  comparative 
sizes.  If  a  player  is  of  somewhat  short  stature  to  begin  with,  the 
rest  is  greatly  simplified. 

For  it  is  a  fact  that  we  judge  size  by  comparison.  When  we 
say  a  thing  is  large,  it  is  because  it  compares  that  way  with  some 
object  of  known  size.  And  so  the  matter  of  largeness  or  small- 
ness  is  merely  a  matter  of  comparison,  and  the  motion-picture 


w 
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M  O 


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:^  O 


52  The  Real  Role  of  the  Picture  Actor 


folk  take  advantage  of  that  fact.  When  an  adult  player  assumes 
a  child's  role,  it  is  merely  necessary  to  have  exceptionally  tall 
people  appear  with  that  player  to  make  him  or  her  shrink  to  the 
relative  height  of  a  child,  so  to  speak.  The  illusion  can  be  car- 
ried out  still  further  by  using  special  furniture  of  exaggerated  size 
— a  table  can  be  made  four  feet  high;  special  forks,  spoons,  plates 
and  other  tableware  can  be  used;  and  so  on.  Then,  when  the 
player  assumes  the  role  of  an  adult,  the  exaggerated  surroundings 
are  replaced  by  normal  surroundings,  thus  causing  the  player  to 
"grow"  to  a  corresponding  degree. 

MAKING    PEOPLE   LAUGH 

After  all  is  said  and  done,  persons  go  to  motion-picture  theatres 
to  be  entertained.  They  go  with  the  intention  of  leaving  the 
worries  of  the  workaday  world  behind  them  for  a  few  hours,  at 
least.  Certain  it  is  that  they  do  not  go  to  witness  the  worries  and 
troubles  of  other  persons,  as  depicted  on  the  screen.  And  that  is 
precisely  what  makes  the  comedy  films  so  popular  these  days, 
when  picture  producers  have  at  last  come  to  understand  their 
audiences  and  know  how  to  produce  good  comedy  as  well  as  good 
drama. 

It  is  easier  to  be  serious  than  to  be  humorous,  and  in  nothing 
is  this  more  evident  than  in  photoplay  production.  For  the  pro- 
ducer is  perfectly  safe  in  assuming  that  his  audience  will  be  sad 
and  very  much  impressed  with  a  given  dramatic  production ;  yet, 
when  he  is  attempting  a  comedy  photoplay,  he  is  ever  fearful  as 
to  whether  or  not  the  humor  of  the  pictures  will  be  appreciated 
by  his  audience.  Often  the  most  funny  portion  of  a  scenario 
falls  absolutely  flat  when  translated  into  action  and  projected 
on  the  screen.  It  is  quite  one  thing  to  obtain  a  laugh  from  writ- 
ten comedy  and  quite  another  to  obtain  another  laugh  from  a 
film  comedy. 

Because  of  the  numerous  difficulties  in  the  way  of  creating 
good  comedy  on  the  screen,  most  producers  do  not  attempt  com- 
edy production.  On  the  other  hand  there  are  some  producers 
who  have  made  a  long  and  exhaustive  study  of  comedy  and  who 
produce  nothing  else.  The  same  applies  to  those  actors  who 
have  the  happy  faculty  of  understanding  what  is  really  funny 
and  who  know  how  to  apply  it  to  the  screen. 


> 

w 
o 


So 


54  The  Real  Bole  of  the  Picture  Actor 

One  of  the  greatest  film  comedians  assures  us  that  there  is  no 
mystery  about  his  success  in  film  comedy.  He  explains  his  suc- 
cess by  merely  saying  that  he  happens  to  know  a  few  simple  facts 
about  human  nature  and  makes  use  of  these  in  his  work.  Thus  he 
points  out  to  one  of  the  fundamental  elements  of  comedy,  which 
.is  the  exposition  of  a  person  being  placed  in  an  undignified  and 
embarrassing  situation. 

Merely  to  see  a  man's  hat  blown  off  is  not  funny,  provided  the 
man  is  not  embarrassed.  But  if  the  victim  immediately  starts 
chasing  his  hat,  with  perhaps  a  fall  or  two  thrown  in  for  good 
measure,  the  situation  becomes  most  funny.  If  it  is  a  poor  man, 
the  situation  is  just  funny,  nothing  more;  but  if  it  happens  to  be 
a  wealthy  man,  official  or  nobleman,  the  situation  is  enhanced 
many  fold.  Years  ago,  when  the  pictures  were  still  young,  the 
French  producers  realized  this  fundamental  requisite  to  screen 
comedy  by  showing  the  gendarmes  of  Paris  subjected  to  all  sorts 
of  undignified  treatment.  The  Parisian  policemen  were  shown 
falling  down  coal  chutes,  receiving  the  contents  of  whitewash 
pails,  and  so  on. 

There  must  be  a  trace  of  resentment  against  dignity  and  power 
in  the  makeup  of  most  individuals,  whether  they  are  aware  of  it 
or  not;  for  the  sudden  lowering  of  dignity  as  depicted  on  the 
screen  is  always  greeted  with  overwhelming  applause.  It  is  one 
of  the  main  ingredients  in  motion-picture  comedy. 

A  still  funnier  situation  is  when  the  victim,  who  has  been 
rendered  ridiculous,  refuses  to  admit  that  anything  is  out  of  the 
way,  and  attempts  to  maintain  his  usual  dignity.  That  is  why 
the  intoxicated  man  who  tries  to  disguise  the  obvious  fact  that 
he  is  in  that  condition,  is  so  funny  both  on  the  speaking  stage 
and  on  the  screen. 

All  the  screen  comedies  of  the  best-known  comedian  in  the 
world  are  based  on  the  idea  of  getting  himself  into  trouble  and 
then  attempting  to  get  out  of  that  trouble  while  still  maintaining 
his  dignity  with  little,  if  any,  success.  In  the  first  place,  the 
get-up  which  has  made  this  comedian's  name  known  throughout 
the  world,  is  that  of  a  gentleman's,  ill-fitting  and  ragged  though 
it  may  be.  Thus  the  comedian  seems  to  be  trying  his  best  to 
appear  as  a  gentleman,  while  all  the  while  the  audience  is  com- 
pelled to  laugh  because  his  attempts  at  dignity  are  so  hopeless. 


ONE  OF  FILM-LAND'S  MOST  POPULAR  COMEDIANS  IN  ACTION  BY  THE 
SEASHORE  AND  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 


50  The  Real  Role  of  the  Picture  Actor 

He  is  forever  straightening  his  derby  hat,  which  is  several  times 
too  small  for  his  head.  His  shoes  are  many  sizes  too  big,  and 
have  a  way  of  getting  him  into  trouble.  His  cane,  too,  is  con- 
tinually getting  him  into  difficulties.  His  trousers  are  baggy 
and  without  crease,  with  sufficient  square-foot  surface  to  clothe 
several  more  of  him.  All  in  all,  it  is  his  attempt  to  take  the  role 
of  a  fastidious  gentleman  that  accounts  for  a  good  part  of  his 
success. 

This  same  comedian  bases  his  photoplays  on  everyday  life. 
Thus  he  has  appreciated  the  comical  possibilities  in  a  department 
store,  in  the  life  of  a  fireman,  in  a  prize  fight,  in  a  bogus  count's 
courtship,  and  so  on,  producing  photoplays  making  use  of  these 
possibilities.  This  comedian  is  always  awake  to  comical  situa- 
tions, and  sooner  or  later  he  introduces  these  situations  in  his 
photoplays  which  he  leads  as  well  as  directs.  He  spends  many 
hours  in  motion-picture  houses  where  his  pictures  are  being 
shown,  for  the  purpose  of  learning  how  the  audience  takes  each 
"stunt."  If  the  applause  is  not  quite  up  to  expectations  for  any 
given  ''stunt,"  he  at  once  begins  to  analyze  that  "stunt"  with  a 
view  to  finding  where  the  trouble  lies — whether  it  is  in  the  idea  or 
the  execution.  Even  a  comedian  of  his  calibre  is  ever  fearful 
that  his  comedies  may  not  be  understood  and  appreciated  by  the 
audience.  Then  again,  the  public  is  fickle,  and  new  "stunts" 
must  continuously  be  introduced  in  order  to  retain  popular  in- 
terest. 

Sympathy  is  also  an  important  element  in  comedy.  This 
comedian  always  tries  to  have  the  sympathy  of  the  audience  while 
enacting  his  foolish  roles.  So,  if  he  is  being  shaken  or  beaten  by 
an  enraged  rival,  the  latter  is  a  very  large  man  in  contrast  to  the 
small  stature  of  this  comedian.  Then  by  assuming  a  pathetic 
and  martyred  expression,  the  comedian  gains  the  sympathy  of 
the  audience  in  the  ridiculous  situation.  The  mob,  as  he  puts  it. 
always  sympathizes  with  the  "under  dog";  and  to  gain  that 
sympathy  is  to  gain  popular  favor. 

In  the  matter  of  contrast,  many  comical  possibilities  are  avail- 
able. Thus  in  a  recent  photoplay  in  which  this  comedian  takes 
the  part  of  a  farmer,  he  goes  out  in  a  field  to  sow,  taking  one  seed 
at  a  time  out  of  his  vest  pocket  and  digging  a  hole  for  it  with  his 
finger.    Now  when  the  location  director  set  out  to  find  a  suitable 


58 The  Real  Role  of  the  Picture  Actor 

farm  for  the  farming  scenes,  he  settled  his  choice  on  a  small  but 
attractive  farm.  However,  the  great  comedian  immediately  con- 
demned the  use  of  such  a  small  farm,  and  asked  for  a  very  large 
one  in  order  that  the  contrast  between  his  method  of  planting 
and  the  extent  of  the  farm  would  be  most  ludicrous. 

Surprise  is  another  big  factor  in  comedy.  Typical  of  the  effect 
of  surprise,  are  the  opening  scenes  of  a  recent  photoplay  of  this 
famous  screen  star,  based  on  the  life  of  a  bank  janitor.  At  first 
the  audience  does  not  realize  that  he  is  a  janitor,  as  he  comes 
shuffling  down  the  avenue  in  the  most  dignified  manner  at  his 
command.  He  enters  the  bank  and  proceeds  down  to  the  safe- 
deposit  vault,  where  he  is  soon  engaged  in  turning  the  combina- 
tion knobs,  partly  from  memory  and  partly  by  referring  to  certain 
notations  on  his  shirt  cuffs.  Then  he  swings  open  the  heavy 
doors  of  steel,  walks  into  the  vault  and — well,  to  the  utter  amaze- 
ment of  the  expectant  audience,  he  comes  out  with  his  mops  and 
scrub  pails ! 

The  audience  enjoy  these  surprises.  They  like  to  be  fooled,  if 
it  is  done  in  an  ingenious  manner.  Thus  in  the  opening  scene 
of  another  photoplay  based  on  the  life  of  an  immigrant,  the  audi- 
ence sees  the  screen  comedian  leaning  over  the  rail  of  a  ship, 
with  his  back  toward  them.  From  the  convulsive  shudders  of 
his  shoulders,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  he  is  seasick.  But 
when  he  straightens  out  a  fishing  line  with  a  fish  at  the  end 
comes  into  view.  This  total  surprise  has  never  failed  to  bring  a 
roar  of  laughter  from  any  audience. 

Much  of  the  success  of  a  comedy  picture  depends  on  not  mak- 
ing it  too  funny.  There  is  a  certain  amount  of  physical  exertion 
connected  with  violent  laughing,  and  this  comedian  points  out 
that  he  would  rather  have  one  or  two  big  laughs  and  a  continual 
ripple  of  amusement,  than  an  ^'explosion"  every  minute  or  two 
with  dull  moments  between.  For  this  reason  his  pictures  have  a 
fascinating  and  effective  way  of  swinging  occasionally  into  semi- 
dramatic  situations,  which  call  for  much  sympathy  on  the  part 
of  the  audience.  The  purpose  of  these  short  relapses  is  merely 
to  give  the  audience  a  momentary  rest  from  the  strenuous  task  of 
laughing,  and  to  afford  variety  and  violent  contrast. 

Comedy  film  remains  the  hardest  kind  of  film  to  produce.  This 
comedian  has  been  limiting  his  yearly  output  to  ten  or  twelve 


60 The  Real  Role  of  the  Picture  Actor 

photoplays,  in  order  to  have  plenty  of  time  for  each.  He  tells 
us  that  as  many  as  60,000  feet  of  film  must  be  taken  for  one  of 
his  photoplays  which  require  only  40  minutes  on  the  screen ;  and 
in  the  editing  of  such  films  down  to  two  thousand  feet,  much  has 
to  be  thrown  out  because  it  does  not  prove  sufficiently  funny, 
or  is  irrelevant  to  the  main  action  of  the  story. 

IS  IT  "getting  across?" 

Whether  on  the  legitimate  stage  or  in  motion  pictures,  an 
actor's  chief  concern  is  how  the  audience  is  impressed  with  his 
role.  On  the  speaking  stage  it  is  difficult  to  ascertain  the  attitude 
of  the  audience  except  by  the  frequency  and  volume  of  applause ; 
and  so  it  is  always  with  great  joy  that  an  actor  receives  applause. 
There  are  actors  who  make  it  a  point  to  have  relatives  or  friends 
present  on  the  opening  night  of  a  new  show,  in  order  that  these 
relatives  or  friends  may  inform  them  how  things  appeared  "out 
front." 

The  motion-picture  actor  has  no  applause  to  guide  him,  and 
the  final  test  of  his  work  is  the  projected  image.  Thus  it  is  the 
practice  of  many  studios  to  have  all  the  actors  and  directors 
attend  the  first  projection  of  a  photoplay,  in  order  that  all  can 
freely  criticize  or  commend  the  action  and  direction  and  scenery. 
To  many  in  the  profession,  such  gatherings  are  referred  to  as  the 
"chamber  of  horrors" ;  yet  they  realize  full  well  that  such  gather- 
ings are  of  great  help  to  all  who  participate  in  a  photoplay. 
And  as  a  general  thing  an  actor  is  the  best  judge  of  his  screen 
work ;  for  there  are  few  actors  who  are  so  self-centered  that  they 
cannot  pick  their  screen  actions  to  pieces,  criticizing  and  analyz- 
ing the  roles  and  learning  how  to  better  themselves  in  subsequent 
photoplays. 

And  then  there  is  the  matter  of  public  opinion.  Many  photo- 
play actors  make  it  a  point  to  visit,  incognito  of  course,  various 
theatres  where  their  pictures  are  being  shown,  in  order  to  ascer- 
tain how  the  audience  is  enjoying  their  work.  The  general 
attitude  of  the  audience  toward  various  actions  is  taken  into 
account;  little  "stunts"  that  prove  successful  are  noted  for  future 
pictures;  actions  that  fall  flat  are  likewise  noted,  in  order  that 
they  may  be  discarded  or  replaced  by  something  else. 

After  all,  an  actor  is  like  a  manufacturer:  both  must  please 


62  The  Real  Role  of  the  Picture  Actor 

the  public  in  order  to  dispose  of  their  wares.  That  is  why  both 
of  them  must  always  study  their  markets,  keeping  in  close  touch 
with  the  buyers  of  their  wares  in  order  to  be  ever  ready  to  meet 
the  changes  of  heart  and  choice  of  the  notoriously  fickle  public. 
No  matter  how  successful  an  actor  may  be,  he  is  constantly 
asking  himself,  "Am  I  'getting  across?' "  For  that  is  the  way 
with  the  folk  who  entertain  us  in  the  shadow  pictures  of  the 
screen. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE  MOTION-PICTURE  CAMERA 


rjTlHE  BASIS  of  the  motion-picture  industry  is  the 
J  camera.  It  is  the  camera  through  which  the  audience 
sees  the  work  of  the  players,  directors,  scenery  artisans 
and  others  engaged  in  photoplay  production.  As  the 
medium  between  the  industry  and  the  public,  the  camera 
has  received  the  attention  of  the  leading  photographic, 
optical  and  mechanical  experts  of  the  world.  It  has  been 
constantly  refined  from  the  elephantine  cameras  of  the 
early  days  to  the  highly  perfected  and  readily  portable 
cameras  of  the  present.  All  manner  of  optical  and 
mechanical  devicmhave  been  added  to  it  for  producing 
numerous  startlMk  and  pleasing  photographic  effects. 
That  is  why  thWmot ion-picture  camera  represents  the 
highest  attainment  in  modern  photography. 


64  The  Motion-Picture  Camera 

THERE  is  little  difference  between  your  camera  and  the 
motion-picture  camera.  Both  employ  the  same  principles. 
In  your  camera  you  make  one  photograph  at  a  time,  and 
then  change  the  plates  or  turn  the  film  so  as  to  bring  another 
unexposed  negative  surface  into  position.  In  the  motion-picture 
camera  a  series  of  photographs  is  made,  and  the  shifting  of  the 
negative  is  done  automatically.  That  is  the  main  difference 
between  the  two  kinds  of  cameras,  the  "still"  and  the  motion- 
picture. 

PHOTOGRAPHS    BY    THE    THOUSANDS 

It  is  upon  film  stock  measuring  1%  inches  wide  that  motion 
pictures  are  made.  The  standard  film  has  an  approximate  thick- 
ness of  .006  inch,  of  which  .005  inch  is  represented  by  the 
celluloid,  the  remainder  being  the  emulsion.  The  film  is  manu- 
factured in  lengths  of  200  and  400  feet  as  a  general  thing. 

Now  each  motion-picture  photograph  or  image  measures  one 
inch  wide  by  %-inch  high.  The  3/16-inch  margin  on  either  side 
of  the  image  is  occupied  by  perforations,  evenly  spaced,  with 
four  coming  opposite  each  image  or  "frame"  in  most  cases.  How- 
ever, there  are  at  least  four  different  arrangements  of  perfora- 
tions in  use  at  present.  These  different  frame  lines,  to  give  them 
their  professional  designation,  vary  but  slightly  one  from  the 
other:  some  are  opposite  the  dividing  line  between  images,  others 
are  a  little  off  the  line,  others  are  still  farther  off,  and  finally  come 
those  in  which  the  dividing  line  comes  between  successive  perfora- 
tions. No  doubt  the  frame  lines  must  be  standardized  in  the  near 
future,  just  as  so  many  other  phases  of  the  motion-picture  in- 
dustry have  already  been  standardized.  But  in  the  meantime 
it  is  ifortunate  that  the  better  types  of  cameras  are  arranged  to 
take  pictures  with  any  kind  of  frame  line,  permitting  the  operator 
to  match  up  his  product  with  any  other  existing  film. 

The  average  reel  of  film  containing  1,000  feet  of  celluloid  rib- 
bon, includes  16,000  frames  in  all,  or  16  perfect  images  to  the 
foot.  But  such  a  reel  is  the  product  of  many  different  strips  of 
film  which  have  passed  through  one  or  more  cameras,  since  only 
400  feet  of  film  is  handled  at  a  time  by  even  the  largest  cameras 
in  general  use.  In  some  cameras  the  successive  frames  are  sepa- 
rated by  a  slight  hairline,  while  in  others  there  is  an  appreciable 


■•^,3». 


THIS  IS   HOW   A  MOTION-PICTURE    FILM   REPRESENTS   AN   EXPLOSION, 
IN  POSITIVE  AND  NEGATIVE 


The  Motion-Picture  Camera 


space  between;  but  that  is  merely  a  matter  of  mechanism  and  in 
any  event  the  screen  results  are  identical. 

As  already  stated,  the  motion-picture  camera  is  nothing  more 
than  an  ordinary  camera  taking  a  series  of  snapshots.  The  film  is 
exposed  by  a  revolving  shutter  which  has  openings,  so  that  as  the 
shutter  revolves  and  the  openings  come  in  line  with  the  lens, 
light  passes  through  and  strikes  the  film.  The  latter,  meanwhile, 
is  stationary.  However,  no  sooner  has  the  light  reached  the  film 
when  the  shutter,  revolving  all  the  while,  brings  an  opaque  section 
in  the  path  of  light  and  masks  the  film  which  is  then  pulled  down  in 
order  to  bring  a  fresh  section  into  place.  The  shutter  again  brings 
an  opening  into  line  and  the  light  passes  through  to  the  fresh 
film  surface,  making  a  second  exposure.  After  which  the  shutter 
again  cuts  off  the  light  and  the  process  is  repeated  over  and  over 
again  as  long  as  there  is  film  in  the  camera  and  the  crank  is 
turned.  What  makes  the  camera  so  complicated  is  that  the  shift- 
ing of  the  film  is  automatically  accomplished  and  with  great 
accuracy.  A  difference  of  a  hundredth  of  an  inch  in  shifting  the 
film  makes  for  an  appreciable  difference  when  the  film  is  magni- 
fied thousands  of  times  on  the  screen.  That  is  why  the  machine 
work  must  be  of  the  very  best;  and  the  high  grade  machine  work, 
in  turn,  explains  the  high  cost  of  such  equipment  which  runs  into 
hundreds  and  even  thousands  of  dollars. 

Examining  the  motion-picture  camera  in  detail,  we  come  first 
to  the  lens,  which,  like  in  any  other  photographic  apparatus,  is 
the  most  important  member.  Above  all,  the  lens  must  be  of  the 
speediest  kind,  since  there  is  no  such  thing  as  time  exposure  in 
the  regular  run  of  motion-picture  photography;  indeed,  practi- 
cally all  pictures  are  made  with  exposures  varying  from  l/25th 
to  l/50th  of  a  second.  And  since  pictures  must  be  made  in  all 
kinds  of  weather  and  with  all  sorts  of  light,  the  lens  must  be  ex- 
ceedingly rapid. 

A  LENS   EIGHT  TIMES   FASTER  THAN   USUAL 

All  the  better  types  of  motion-picture  cameras  are  equipped 
wdth  what  is  known  as  an  f/3.5  lens,  which,  to  the  person  informed 
in  photographic  matters,  means  that  it  has  a  speed  about  eight 
times  that  of  the  average  amateur  camera.  Thus  the  motion- 
picture  cameraman  is  enabled  to  make  pictures  in  the  shadow, 


ABOVE:      THE    DEBRIE    MOTION-PICTURE    CAMERA.       BELOW:      DIAGRAM- 
MATIC PICTURE  OF  A  TYPICAL  CAMERA 


68  The  Motion-Picture  Camera 

or  in  the  open  on  a  dark  day ;  whereas  it  is  quite  outside  the  reahn 
of  the  amateur's  apparatus,  except  by  having  the  subject  remain 
still  so  as  to  permit  of  making  a  time  exposure. 

In  bright  sunlight  the  lens  is  generally  set  at  f/16  or  f/22, 
corresponding  to  16  and  32  on  the  amateur  cameras  making  use 
of  the  U.  S.  or  Uniform  System  of  lens  openings.  On  dark  days 
the  lens  is  used  at  f/3.5  or  f/4.5,  which  is  practically  wide  open 
and  far  beyond  the  scope  of  the  amateur  camera. 

Now  between  the  glass  pieces  forming  the  lens  there  is  a 
mechanism  known  as  the  diaphragm,  consisting  of  a  large  num- 
ber of  radially  arranged,  overlapping  leaves.  The  leaves  as  a  unit 
can  be  brought  nearer  or  farther  away  from  the  axial  line  of  the 
lens,  so  as  to  vary  the  opening  and  thereby  control  the  amount 
of  light  passing  through  the  lens.  In  fact,  the  lens  is  like  a  valve 
when  provided  with  an  iris  diaphragm  of  this  sort,  and  more  or 
less  light  can  be  passed  by  the  mere  adjustment  of  the  diaphragm. 
The  needs  of  the  negative  are  met  by  the  iris  diaphragm 
adjustment. 

In  a  special  series  of  night  scenes  taken  in  a  large  New  York 
restaurant,  a  motion-picture  producer  had  a  special  lens  made  by 
a  London  optical  expert.  The  lens  was  rated  at  f/1.9,  or  several 
times  faster  than  the  regular  equipment.  This  increased  speed 
permitted  beautiful  pictures  to  be  obtained  with  ordinary  incan- 
descent illumination  in  the  restaurant.  Since  then  this  type  of 
lens,  namely,  f/1.9,  has  become  quite  common  and  is  often 
employed  for  interior  work  and  in  making  night  scenes. 

The  focus  of  the  average  cinematograph  lens  is  only  two 
inches,  although  there  are  numerous  three-inch  lenses  in  use.  The 
lens  is  generally  between  one-half  inch  and  three-quarter  inch  in 
diameter,  which,  while  seemingly  small,  is  ample  when  the 
diminutive  measurements  of  the  negative  surface  are  recalled. 

It  is  the  short  focus  of  the  cinematograph  lens  which  makes 
for  the  superb  photography  of  the  films.  For  with  short  focus 
lenses  it  is  possible  to  obtain  a  great  depth  of  focus,  by  which  is 
meant  that  in  the  average  scene  every  object  is  clearly  delineated, 
from  the  foreground  to  the  background.  In  many  amateur  snap- 
shots the  results  are  disappointing  because  part  of  the  subject  is 
sharp  or  in  focus,  while  another  part,  either  up  front  or  toward 
the  back,  is  fuzzy.    That  condition  is  known  as  lack  of  depth  of 


THE    PRESWITCH    CAMERA,    OF    BRITISH    MAKE,    WHICH    IS    WIDELY    EM- 
PLOYED FOR  STUDIO  AND  OUTDOOR  WORK 


The  Motion-Picture  Camera 


focus.  Which  means  that  the  lens,  used  with  the  opening  for 
which  it  was  set,  did  not  possess  a  sufficient  depth  of  focus  for  the 
results  sought.  The  longer  the  focal  length  of  a  lens,  the  less  the 
depth  of  focus,  and  vice  versa. 

Yet  it  is  not  the  author's  intention  here  to  delve  into  that  inter- 
esting but  highly  technical  subject  of  optics.  Suffice  it  to  say 
that  in  any  good  work  on  photography  or  optics,  the  reader  can 
study  the  phenomenon  of  focal  length  and  depth  of  focus.  The 
''hyperfocal  distance"  of  a  lens  is  the  phrase  applied  to  its  depth 
of  focus  at  various  lens  openings. 

WHAT   MAKES   FILM    PICTURES   NEEDLE   SHARP? 

So  that  little  term,  hyperfocal  distance,  whatever  that  may  be, 
has  a  great  influence  on  the  clearness  of  pictures.  With  some 
professional  portrait  lenses  the  focal  length  is  so  great  that  in  a 
portrait  the  front  of  the  face  may  be  in  focus  while  the  ears  will 
be  out  of  focus.  On  the  other  hand  the  motion-picture  lens  has 
almost  universal  focus  when  at  all  cut  down,  that  is  to  say,  when 
employed  with  a  reduced  aperture. 

Short  focus  lenses  have  been  the  entire  secret  of  success  of 
motion  pictures.  If  lenses  of  five-inch  focus  had  to  be  employed 
as  in  the  case  of  the  press  photographer  making  ''still"  views, 
the  results  would  be  altogether  different  in  the  deep  scenes.  It 
would  not  be  possible  for  actors  to  move  about  from  the  forefront 
of  the  stage  to  the  rear,  or  from  a  distance  of  five  feet  to  twenty 
or  thirty  feet;  for  if  they  did,  they  would  only  be  in  focus  at 
either  point.  Much  of  the  picture  would  be  blurred  or  indistinct, 
in  consequence.  But  due  to  the  two-inch  focus  lenses  now  avail- 
able the  players  can  roam  about  any  of  the  large  stages  employed 
for  spectacular  productions  without  the  slightest  fear  of  getting 
out  of  focus. 

There  are  several  variations  of  the  mechanism  employed  for 
moving  the  film  in  the  camera,  but  they  all  are  the  means  to  the 
same  end,  namely,  the  advancing  of  the  film  three-quarter  inch 
each  time  an  exposure  has  been  made.  The  most  common  type  of 
mechanism  is  what  is  known  as  the  claw  movement.  In  this  de- 
sign two  claw-like  members,  operated  in  unison  by  a  cam  move- 
ment or  eccentric,  reach  up  and  engage  a  pair  of  perforations  and 
then  pull  down  the  film  the  requisite  distance,  only  to  disengage 


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72  The  Motion-Picture  Camera 

and  again  rise  to  engage  with  another  pair  of  perforations,  and 
so  on. 

In  another  design  of  movement  the  claws  are  replaced  by  pins 
which  are  moved  in  and  out  of  engagement  with  the  sprocket 
holes  by  a  drunken  screw^  device  on  the  shutter  shaft,  while  the 
up  and  down  motion  of  the  pins  is  taken  care  of  by  an  eccentric 
lever.  The  moving  of  the  film  is  intermittent,  while  that  of  the 
revolving  shutter,  the  sprockets  and  other  members  is  continuous. 

In  order  to  compensate  between  the  continuous  movement  of 
the  film  at  the  top  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  intermittent  mech- 
anism, loops  are  left  in  the  film.  The  film  is  fed  regularly  into  the 
top  loop  and  removed  intermittently  by  the  film-shifting  mech- 
anism, while  the  reverse  operation  takes  place  in  the  lower  loop. 
For  many  years  the  basic  patents  on  the  loop  arrangement  pre- 
vented unlicensed  parties  from  constructing  a  motion-picture 
camera,  for  such  a  camera  must  make  use  of  loops  in  the  film 
to  operate  successfully. 

The  film  is  contained  in  daylight-loading  boxes  or  magazines. 
The  latter  are  loaded  in  the  dark  room,  just  as  plateholders  are 
loaded  for  a  day's  work.  The  film  thus  becomes  daylight-loading 
in  the  camera,  and  by  carrying  three  magazines  of  400-foot  ca- 
pacity each,  the  cameraman  has  enough  film  for  more  than  an 
average  day's  work. 

In  the  camera,  where  the  magazines  are  interchangeable,  the 
film  passes  out  of  the  top  magazine,  through  the  camera  mechan- 
ism, and  enters  the  lower  magazine  where  it  is  wound  up  and 
protected  against  light  which  would  ruin  it,  until  it  has  been 
developed  and  fixed  in  the  laboratory.  The  lower  magazine  is 
known  as  the  take-up  magazine.  When  the  film  in  the  top  maga- 
zine is  exhausted,  the  lower  or  take-up  magazine  is  removed,  the 
top  magazine  is  put  in  its  place,  and  a  fresh  or  loaded  magazine 
takes  the  place  of  the  empty  one. 

MAKING   SURE  OP  WHAT   THE   CAMERA  IS  TAKING 

There  are  two  ways  to  focus  the  motion-picture  camera,  one 
an  approximation  method  and  the  other  a  precise  one  where  the 
subject  requires  it,  more  particularly  in  "close-ups"  because  the 
depth  of  focus  diminishes  rapidly  with  shorter  distances.  As 
in  the  case  of  the  better  grade  amateur  cameras,  the  focusing 


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74  The  Motion-Picture  Camera 

at  fair  distances  is  done  by  estimating  the  number  of  feet  between 
the  main  subject  and  the  lens,  and  then  setting  the  lens  barrel 
according  to  a  scale  engraved  on  a  flange  or  under  a  lever.  The 
other  method  is  to  focus  on  a  ground  glass  or  on  the  film  stock 
itself,  where  great  care  is  necessary. 

Some  cameras  are  provided  with  a  peep  hole  at  the  rear,  in 
which  case  focusing  is  accomplished  by  looking  through  the  peep 
hole  at  the  image  appearing  on  the  film  stock,  wrong  side  up. 
The  film  stock  acts,  much  in  the  same  manner  as  ground  glass, 
excepting  that  it  is  of  a  light  yellow  tint  and  less  penetrable  by 
the  light  rays,  and  therefore  renders  it  more  difficult  to  view  the 
image.  Nevertheless  this  method  is  used  every  day  and  seems 
quite  satisfactory  when  the  lens  is  wide  open  so  as  to  pass  a  maxi- 
mum of  light.  Other  cameras  have  a  peep  hole  on  the  side,  with 
a  mirror  or  prism  arranged  inside  the  camera  so  as  to  permit 
seeing  the  film  image  "around  the  corner,"  as  it  were.  There  are 
a  few  cameras  in  which  the  peep  hole  is  arranged  to  permit  of 
seeing  the  image  on  the  front  face  of  the  film  and  not  through  it, 
thus  getting  away  from  the  dimness  generally  prevailing. 

Some  peep  holes  are  equipped  with  magnifying  glasses  so  that 
the  image  is  seen  several  times  its  actual  size,  which  is  a  great  aid 
in  making  sure  of  the  focus  on  minute  details.  Where  such  mag- 
nifying glasses  are  not  incorporated  in  the  camera,  the  operators 
generally  use  a  pocket  magnifier  for  checking  up  the  focus  of  the 
minute  details  of  the  image. 

Peep  holes  are  always  provided  with  light-proof  shutters,  doors, 
or  caps,  for  it  is  quite  obvious  that  if  they  were  allowed  to  remain 
open  during  filming,  all  of  the  film  moving  past  the  peep  hole 
would  be  fight-struck  or  ruined.  Some  peep  holes  are  arranged 
to  open  by  pressing  down  a  lever,  and  to  close  by  spring  or  gravity 
action  the  moment  the  pressure  is  removed.  Others  are  opened 
by  pressing  the  eye  against  an  eyepiece,  and  close  again  when  the 
eye  is  removed. 

While  the  film  is  being  exposed,  the  operator  can  view  his 
subject  through  a  finder  mounted  either  on  the  top  or  the  side  of 
the  camera.  The  finder  is  either  of  the  ground  glass  or  the  bril- 
liant, direct-view  type.  In  the  former  the  image  is  shown  upside 
down,  just  as  on  the  ground  glass  screen  of  the  usual  plate 
camera,  while  in  the  latter  it  is  shown  right  side  up.    The  finder 


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The  Motion-Picture  Camera 


is  exceptionally  useful — indispensable,  for  that  matter — when  it 
is  necessary  to  follow  a  moving  subject.  It  is  to  the  camera  what 
the  sights  are  to  the  rifle. 

The  usual  speed  of  operation  is  16  pictures  per  second,  or  a 
cranking  speed  of  two  turns  per  second.  But  there  are  times,  as 
will  be  explained  in  a  subsequent  chapter,  when  certain  trick 
effects  are  to  be  obtained,  in  which  case  a  slower  rate  of  taking 
is  desirable.  For  just  such  purposes  every  camera  is  provided 
with  a  second  movement  known  as  the  single-picture  or  trick 
movement.  The  same  crank  can  be  removed  from  the  usual 
crank  shaft  and  placed  on  the  trick  shaft  so  as  to  take  one  pic- 
ture for  every  turn.  All  kinds  of  interesting  effects  are  obtained 
in  this  manner. 


HOW   MUCH   FILM    HAS   BEEN   EXPOSED.'' 

As  can  well  be  imagined,  the  cameraman  must  know  how  much 
film  remains  in  his  magazines  and  how  much  he  has  taken.  The 
predicament  of  a  cameraman  running  out  of  film  in  the  middle  of 
an  important  dramatic  scene,  when  some  well-known  screen  idol 
has  worked  himself  into  a  perfect  frenzy  in  order  to  register  the 
sublime  heights  of  emotion,  is  as  sad  as  a  soldier  run  short  of 
ammunition  when  a  Hun  is  charging  him.  It  usually  means 
another  cameraman  seeking  a  position! 

At  any  rate,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  know  how  much  film 
remains  in  the  camera,  unexposed.  To  that  end  every  camera 
worthy  of  the  name  is  provided  with  a  counter.  This  device  is 
merely  a  dial  graduated  in  feet  or  meters,  over  which  travels  a 
hand  or  indicator  connected  to  the  camera  mechanism  by  a  suit- 
able train  of  gears.  As  the  film  passes  through  the  camera  the 
counter  hand  revolves  and  indicates  the  film  exposed.  In  some 
cases  a  counter  with  two  hands  is  used,  so  as  to  keep  track  not 
only  of  the  total  film  exposed,  but  the  film  used  in  each  scene. 
One  hand  is  stationary  while  the  other  revolves  about  the  dial. 
At  the  start  of  each  scene  the  stationary  hand  is  moved  to  the 
position  where  it  coincides  with  the  active  hand,  and  as  the  film 
is  consumed  the  latter  moves  farther  and  farther  away  from  the 
former.  The  total  number  of  feet  consumed  can  be  read  directly 
beneath  the  active  hand,  while  the  footage  for  the  last  scene  is 


THE  UNIVERSAL   IS   A  MODERATE-PRICED   CAMERA  LARGELY   EMPLOYED 
FOR  TRAVEL  AND  "NEWS"  WORK 


78  The  Motion-Picture  Camera 

obtained  by  subtracting  the  reading  of  the  stationary  hand  from 
that  of  the  active  hand. 

A  refinement  found  only  on  the  most  elaborate  cameras  is  a 
speed  indicator.  While  the  correct  cranking  speed  comes  as  a 
matter  of  constant  practice,  some  cameras  are  provided  with 
speed  indicators  which  give  readings  over  quite  a  range.  To  be 
sure,  the  exact  cranking  speed  m  a  valuable  factor  to  know,  al- 
though any  experienced  cameraman  can  tell  his  cranking  speed 
pretty  closely  without  the  aid  of  an  indicator;  and  since  eight 
pictures  are  made  for  every  revolution  of  the  crank,  the  number 
of  pictures  per  second  is  soon  determined. 

Still  another  refinement  is  a  film  punch.  The  object  of  this 
device  is  to  punch  a  hole  at  the  end  of  each  scene  so  that  the 
laboratory  hands  can  tell  where  a  scene  begins  and  ends.  Ob- 
viously this  is  of  great  assistance  in  the  developing  and  fixing 
process,  because  for  best  results  each  scene  requires  separate 
treatment  to  compensate  for  varying  exposures.  At  the  end  of 
each  scene  the  cameraman  merely  presses  the  button  of  the  punch 
located  on  the  outside  of  the  camera  case. 

A  poor  camera  it  is  that  does  not  permit  cranking  in  either 
direction,  for  the  majority  of  work  requires  the  film  to  be  moved 
in  either  direction  as  will  be  explained  in  the  next  chapter.  So 
the  film  handling  mechanism  is  constructed  to  operate  equally 
well  in  either  direction;  and  the  magazines,  being  absolutely  in- 
terchangeable in  this  respect,  serve  either  as  feeding  magazine 
or  take-up  magazine  at  the  command  of  the  crank.  This  feature 
necessitates  a  train  of  gears,  belt  or  chain  drive  between  the 
main  driving  shaft  and  the  spindles  of  the  magazines. 

THE   FIFTY-SEVEN   VARIETIES   OF   CAMERAS 

Large  cameras,  small  cameras,  cheap  cameras,  expensive  cam- 
eras, studio  cameras,  outdoor  or  "news"  cameras — all  these  are 
available  today.  The  purchaser  of  a  camera  at  present  is  in  the 
same  position  as  the  prospective  buyer  of  an  automobile,  as 
regards  variety.  But  it  has  not  always  been  so;  indeed,  only  a 
few  years  ago  when  the  industry  was  still  a  monopoly,  because 
of  the  basic  patents  held  by  a  patents  corporation,  cameras  were 
scarce  and  practically  unobtainable  except  by  the  few  licensed 
film  manufacturers.    When  the  courts  finally  decided  the  patent 


MATTS  USED  IN   REGULAR  WORK.     TWO  OR  FOUR  MATTS  CONSTITUTE   A 
SET,  ONE  OR  TWO  FOR  FILMING  AND  ONE  OR  TWO  FOR  FOCUSING 


80  The  Motion-Picture  Camera 

litigation  in  favor  of  the  struggling  independent  producers,  film 
cameras  at  once  began  to  appear  on  the  market.  Today  there  is 
no  scarcity  of  such  equipment  to  fit  every  requirement  and 
every  pocketbook.  Cameras  for  amateur  work  can  be  obtained 
for  as  little  as  $35.00,  and  the  best  of  imported  professional 
models  sell  for  close  on  to  $1,000.00. 

In  the  East  the  producers  seem  to  prefer  the  Pathe  studio 
camera,  which  is  of  French  design  and  manufacture,  to  any  other. 
The  Pathe  has  a  substantial  case  covered  with  black  or  brown 
leather,  with  the  crank  at  the  rear  instead  of  on  the  side.  Its 
main  characteristic,  however,  is  the  arrangement  of  the  maga- 
zines which,  contrary  to  most  cameras,  are  placed  outside  and 
above  the  camera  proper,  at  right  angles  to  the  camera.  The 
Pathe  has  a  peep  hole  at  the  rear  which  permits  of  focusing 
the  image  either  on  the  film  stock  or  on  ground  glass. 

A  more  recent  model  of  the  Pathe  camera  follows  the  practice 
of  the  majority  of  cameras  by  enclosing  the  magazines.  This 
model  is  largely  employed  for  outdoor  work  because  of  its  com- 
pactness. 

Other  cameras  of  French  manufacture  are  the  Gaumont  and 
the  Eclair,  neither  of  which  is  used  to  any  appreciable  extent 
in  this  country.  The  Debrie  camera,  on  the  other  hand,  is  used 
both  in  photoplay  production  and  in  ^^news"  work,  and  is  a  great 
favorite  because  of  its  compactness  and  excellent  workmanship. 
In  fact,  it  is  claimed  by  many  in  the  industry  that  the  Debrie  is 
without  peer,  although  this  is  a  very  broad  claim  in  view  of  the 
many  excellent  models  now  in  use. 

Of  the  British  cameras  the  Preswitch,  Moy,  and  the  Williamson 
are  the  best  known  and  the  most  widely  employed  in  our  in- 
dustry. They  are  all  very  much  along  the  same  general  lines, 
being  tall,  deep,  and  narrow,  with  the  polished  hardwood  case 
bound  in  brass. 

Prior  to  the  war  there  were  several  types  of  German  cameras 
obtainable,  chief  among  them  being  the  Ernemann  models  with 
self-contained  magazines.  However,  in  the  case  of  the  profes- 
sional German  cameras  the  usual  complaint  heard  in  this  country 
was  that  they  were  too  large  and  too  cumbersome  as  compared 
to  others.  Even  in  those  days  "KolossaP*  was  a  creed  with  the 
Germans ! 


ALL-AMERICAN  IN  DESIGN  AND  CONSTRUCTION,  THE  BELL  &  HOWELL 
IS  FAST  BECOMING  OUR  LEADING  CAMERA 


82  The  Motion-Picture  Camera 

In  these  United  States  we  are  making  a  variety  of  excellent 
cameras  which  are  becoming  increasingly  popular  with  the  pro- 
ducers. There  is  the  Bell  &  Howell,  made  entirely  of  metal,  with 
circular,  external  magazines  above  the  camera  proper.  This 
camera  has  every  convenience  a  cameraman  might  wish  for. 
There  is  a  speed  indicator,  counter,  outside  slot  for  inserting 
mats,  the  use  of  which  is  explained  in  the  next  chapter,  and, 
most  important  of  all,  a  revolving  lens  board  in  front  which 
carries  a  collection  of  lenses  of  varying  foci,  any  one  of  which  can 
be  brought  into  action  by  the.  mere  turning  of  the  lens  board. 
The  revolving  lens  board  is  quite  characteristic  of  the  Bell  & 
Howell  model.  In  studio  work  this  camera  is  very  popular, 
especially  in  the  West,  because  of  the  ease  with  which  the  change 
can  be  made  from  a  two-inch  to  a  three-inch  lens,  permitting  of 
making  close-up  views  without  budging  the  camera  from  its 
position  used  in  making  the  general  scene. 

There  are  the  Universal,  Pittman  and  others,  all  available  for 
commercial  work.  Again,  some  producers  make  their  own  cam- 
eras in  accordance  with  certain  ideas  they  may  have.  One  pro- 
ducing concern  which  no  longer  exists  made  use  of  elephantine 
cameras  of  its  own  design  and  construction.  The  stand  for  these 
cameras  when  used  in  the  studio  was  made  of  steel  tubing  with 
an  iron  base,  with  various  gears  and  huge  wheels  for  the  adjust- 
ments. Another  producer  has  made  use  of  a  rather  large  camera 
which  exposes  two  negatives  at  one  time,  so  as  to  avoid  defective 
negatives. 

Lastly,  this  discussion  of  American  cameras  would  not  be  com- 
plete without  a  word  about  the  most  radical  camera  of  all,  that 
designed  by  Carl  Akeley,  the  scientist  and  explorer.  It  was  while 
on  a  journey  through  Africa  that  Mr.  Akeley,  equipped  with  a 
conventional  type  of  motion-picture  camera,  discovered  its  many 
limitations.  So  upon  his  return  to  this  country  he  set  to  work 
designing  a  camera  which  could  be  employed  under  all  conditions. 
The  peep  hole  of  this  camera  is  so  constructed  that  a  light  trap 
opens  when  the  eye  is  pressed  against  it,  and  if  desired  the 
operator  can  view  his  subject  on  the  film  stock  while  making  the 
exposures.  The  camera  is  round  and  compact,  with  the  lens 
mounted  on  the  rim.  By  a  novel  suspension  arrangement  the 
camera  is  self-leveling,  and  can  be  aimed  in  any  direction  in  an 


84  The  Motion-Picture  Camera 

instant.  It  can  be  employed  without  a  tripod  if  necessary, 
through  the  use  of  a  flexible  cranking  shaft.  And  there  are  nu- 
merous other  novel  features  which  go  to  make  the  Akeley  camera 
the  most  novel  of  any. 

A  SOLID   FOUNDATION   FOR  STEADY  PICTURES 

The  motion-picture  camera  must  be  mounted  on  a  substantial 
base  or  tripod  if  steady  pictures  are  wanted.  So  part  and  parcel 
of  the  equipment  is  a  heavy,  firm  tripod  on  which  the  camera  is 
set. 

Much  has  been  done  of  late  in  developing  rigid  yet  light-weight 
tripods.  There  was  a  time  when  it  was  considered  essential  to 
make  tripods  tremendously  heavy  in  order  to  secure  steadiness; 
but  today  the  rockbed  steadiness  has  been  obtained  rather  by 
ingenious  construction  than  by  weight.  Collapsed,  the  average 
tripod  weighs  about  25  pounds  and  measures  little  more  than 
four  feet  in  length.  That  is  an  all-round,  general  utility  tripod 
for  indoor  and  outside  work.  In  the  studio  where  weight  is  no 
object,  heavier  and  taller  tripods  are  to  be  found. 

Tripods  are  made  of  light  wood  or  metal.  The  legs  are  made  in 
sections  so  that  they  may  be  extended  or  collapsed  to  make  the 
tripod  any  height  between  the  minimum  of  say  four  feet,  and 
the  maximum  of  six  to  eight  feet.  Metal  straps  and  wing-nuts 
bind  the  legs  in  any  position. 

There  is  still  another  important  member  of  the  tripod,  namely, 
the  head,  which  serves  to  mount  the  camera  and  to  turn  it  in  any 
direction  after  the  fashion  of  a  cannon.  The  heads  of  the  com- 
mercial kind  have  two  movements:  an  up-and-down  movement, 
known  as  the  tilting  movement,  and  a  horizontal  turning  move- 
ment known  as  the  panoramic.  Each  movement  is  controlled  by 
a  separate  crank,  although  in  some  heads  a  single  crank  is  em- 
ployed for  both  movements ;  and  by  pushing  the  crank  or  pulling 
it  out  on  its  shaft,  either  movement  can  be  operated  with  one 
hand.  Both  movements  being  operated  by  a  gear  arrangement, 
the  camera  is  turned  or  raised  at  a  slow  rate.  But  by  releasing 
the  mechanism  the  camera  can  be  freely  swung  into  position 
when  prompt  action  demands  it. 

For  following  an  object  moving  either  horizontally  or  verti- 


The  Motion-Picture  Camera 


cally,  the  tripod  head  is  available.  For  bringing  the  camera  to 
bear  on  a  fixed  object,  the  head  is  also  available.  Any  one  who 
has  had  experience  in  aiming  a  bulky  plate  camera  on  a  given 
object  by  shifting  the  tripod  legs,  will  appreciate  the  simplicity 
and  dispatch  of  doing  the  work  by  the  turning  of  two  cranks. 

Of  late  there  has  been  developed  an  interesting  form  of  marine 
tripod,  in  which  the  tripod  head  is  mounted  in  a  gimbal-ring 
arrangement,  like  the  usual  marine  compass,  and  connected  to  a 
long  and  heavily  weighted  pendulum.  The  result  of  this  con- 
struction is  a  tripod  head  which  always  maintains  a  true  hori- 
zontal position  no  matter  how  the  tripod  may  be  pitched  and 
tossed  about.  This  tripod  is  now  being  employed  for  taking 
marine  views,  in  which  case  it  makes  for  pictures  on  an  even 
keel,  so  to  speak,  as  distinguished  from  the  pictures  made  with 
the  plain  type  of  tripod,  which  dizzily  twist  and  turn  on  the 
screen. 


CHAPTER  V 


THE  CAMERAMAN  AND  HIS  ART 


/F  THE  CAMERA  has  been  pcrfecled,  so  has  the 
cameraman  perfected  himself  in  his  art.  For  the 
camera  is  but  the  tool,  and  the  best  tools  are  worthless 
in  the  hands  of  an  unskilled  worker.  Year  after  year 
the  cameraman  has  come  to  know  his  camera,  his  light 
both  indoors  and  outdoors,  his  subjects,  his  limitations, 
and  other  phases  of  his  work  more  and  more  intimately. 
The  old-time  cameraman  frankly  admits  that  he  is 
ashamed  to  look  back  on  his  work  of  ten  years  ago,  with 
the  indistinct  figures  and  backgrounds  and  the  general 
inartistic  arrangement  of  those  pioneer  scenes.  But  in  the 
productions  of  today  the  cameraman  is  a  big  factor;  he  is 
the  connecting  link  between  the  screen  folk  and  the  public. 


88  The  Cameraman  and  His  Art 

MOTION  PICTURES  became  popular  when  the  camera- 
man became  acquainted  with  his  work.  A  dozen  years 
ago  when  the  industry  was  in  its  infancy  the  films  were 
of  poor  photographic  quality:  they  were  indistinct;  they  jumped 
about  on  the  screen  in  the  most  disconcerting  manner;  and  they 
flickered  to  such  a  degree  that  only  the  strongest  of  eyes  could 
attend  a  performance  more  than  once  a  week. 

Yet  the  stories  these  films  told  were  good  stories,  in  many 
instances  comparing  favorably  with  those  of  today.  The  fault 
was  clearly  not  with  the  stories  or  the  acting.  But  no  audience 
cares  to  be  discomforted  when  seeking  distraction  or  entertain- 
ment; and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  the  entire  future  of  the  in- 
dustry— ^whether  it  was  to  be  an  established,  universal  form  of 
entertainment,  or  merely  a  novelty  to  be  displayed  to  the  curious 
in  museums,  beer  gardens,  and  at  country  fairs — was  placed  in 
the  hands  of  the  cameraman.  To  him  was  assigned  the  task  of 
producing  good  photographs,  while  the  industry  awaited  the  out- 
come of  his  efforts. 

OTHERS   WHO   HELPED   THE   CAMERAMAN 

Fortunately,  the  cameraman  was  not  alone  in  his  labors;  for  the 
film  manufacturer,  realizing  that  the  raw  film  was  the  very  foun- 
dation of  good  photography,  worked  on  his  chemicals  and  meth- 
ods and  emulsions  until  he  evolved  a  stock  that  was  faster,  more 
reliable,  and  contained  a  minimum  of  grain.  The  laboratory 
workers  and  chemists  also  contributed  toward  the  progress  of  the 
art,  perfecting  their  developing  and  printing  methods  and  im- 
proving the  finishing  of  prints  for  projection.  Further  aid  came 
from  cinematograph  engineers,  who  turned  their  efforts  to  the 
end  of  evolving  better  cameras,  better  printing  machines,  and 
rock-steady,  flickerless  projectors.  Finally,  optical  experts,  wish- 
ing again  to  prove  their  battle  cry  that  ''It's  all  in  the  lens," 
after  careful  study  of  the  peculiar  requirements  of  motion-picture 
photography  and  projection  contributed  their  quota  in  the  form 
of  short-focus,  high-speed  anastigmat  lenses  and  fool-proof  opti- 
cal systems  for  projection  purposes. 

All  of  which  went  to  place  the  motion-picture  film  high  in  the 
scale  of  photographic  quality. 

One  concrete  example  serves  to  show  what  has  been  accom- 


HOW  THE  CAMERAMAN  WORKS  IN  THE  STUDIO:  IN   EACH  CASE  THE 
PATHE   CAMERA   IS   SHOWN 


90  The  Cameraman  and  His  Art 

plished  in  cinematography  during  the  past  ten  years.  With  but 
few  exceptions  the  domestic  films  of  a  decade  ago  were  so  in- 
distinct that  the  faces  of  the  players  could  hardly  be  made  out. 
Today  a  battle  scene  including  hundreds  of  players  is  so  clear 
that  every  figure  can  be  recognized  on  the  screen.  Yet  each 
of  these  figures  appears  as  a  pinhead  in  size  on  the  film. 

In  the  previous  chapter  we  have  learned  something  regarding 
the  motion-picture  camera.  But  the  description  of  the  mechan- 
ism was  intended  merely  to  outline  the  equipment  as  originally 
furnished  the  cameraman.  If  plain  cameras  were  employed  to- 
day, there  would  be  none  of  the  beautiful  effects  which  charac- 
terize our  present  productions.  Wonderful  silhouettes,  vignetted 
scenes,  vision  scenes,  trick  effects — all  these  features  simply  could 
not  be. 

Now,  if  ever  there  was  an  ingenious  individual  it  is  the  expert 
cameraman;  for  starting  out  with  the  camera  as  turned  over  to 
him  by  the  motion-picture  engineers,  he  has  forever  been  busy 
improving  its  mechanism  and  developing  any  number  of  acces- 
sories, so  that  his  results  exceed  our  fondest  expectations  of  a 
few  years  ago.  The  fact  is  that  the  average  good  cameraman  is 
an  artist;  but  instead  of  pigments  and  brushes  he  relies  on  various 
mechanical  contraptions  designed  and  constructed  during  odd 
moments.  The  director,  also  an  artist  to  be  sure,  rather  poses  the 
scene  and  animates  it  to  interpret  an  author's  thoughts;  but  it 
remains  for  the  artist  of  the  camera  to  reproduce  the  scene  in 
all  its  beauty  and  even  added  beauty  for  the  followers  of  the 
screen. 

So  the  cameraman  is  entitled  to  some  credit  for  the  success  of  a 
photoplay.  And  that  is  why,  of  late,  his  name  appears  at  the 
beginning  of  film  productions. 

WHAT   THE   CLOSE-UP    HAS    MEANT   IN   PHOTOGRAPHY 

Any  sort  of  photography  was  good  enough  in  the  old  days, 
when  the  acting  and  the  scenery  were  so  mediocre  that  poor 
photography  .helped  rather  than  handicapped.  Seeing  an  old 
re-issued  film  produced  prior  to  1910  explains  graphically  what 
has  been  accomplished  in  every  branc  hof  the  industry;  most 
important  of  all,  it  shows  the  difference  in  the  technique  of  then 
and  now.    In  those  early  days  the  actors  were  shown  full  length. 


o 

W 
> 

>  w 


> 

w 
o 

o 

>  ^ 

>  w 
O  ^ 

o  o 


M    ^ 

a 


92  The  Cameraman  and  His  Art 

some  distance  away  from  the  camera.  Their  faces  did  not  always 
show  plainly,  and  even  if  they  did  the  distance  was  too  great  to 
rely  on  facial  expression  to  carry  the  story.  Exaggerated  arm  and 
hand  movements  were  rehed  upon  to  carry  the  idea;  in  truth, 
Italian  and  French  actors,  being  naturally  most  expressive  with 
their  hands  and  arms  and  shrugs  of  the  shoulders,  were  immedi- 
ately successful  in  the  films. 

Then  came  the  great  step  in  photoplay  production — the  close- 
up.  Directors  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  too  much  space 
was  being  wasted  in  full-stage  scenes;  and,  just  as  the  editor  of  a 
magazine  or  book  takes  a  certain  portion  of  a  picture  for  his 
illustration,  which  he  calls  the  "meat,"  the  directors  came  to  take 
the  ''meat"  or  essential  of  each  scene.  The  actors  who  had  hith- 
erto had  but  little  opportunity  to  act,  now  found  ample  oppor- 
tunity for  facial  expression  and  the  finest  type  of  interpretation. 

It  was  the  cameraman  who  was  hardest  hit  by  the  introduction 
of  the  close-up,  for  it  meant  that  his  photography  would  have  to 
be  far  better  than  ever  before.  In  fact,  the  close-ups  were  to  be 
veritable  portraits  of  the  players,  nothing  more  or  less.  There 
would  have  to  be  detail — and  plenty  of  it. 

Despite  the  early  opposition  from  directors  and  cameramen 
alike,  the  close-up  idea  gradually  spread  till  it  became  common 
property.  Today  this  photographic  device  is  widely  employed 
in  photoplays,  and  at  least  half  the  scenes  of  a  representative 
photoplay  are  close-ups. 

THE   "fade-in"   and   "fADE-OUT" 

Shortly  after  the  close-up  came  the  first  effects  of  the  long  list 
of  photoplay  devices,  namely,  the  "fade-in"  and  the  "fade-out." 
Originally,  the  effect  was  employed  to  open  a  photoplay  gradu- 
ally and  to  close  it  at  the  end,  the  idea  being  to  provide  something 
more  pleasing  than  the  rude  and  unbecoming  opening  and  ending 
then  in  vogue. 

Simply  explained,  the  fade-in  is  that  effect  wherein  the  film, 
first  black,  gradually  becomes  lighter  as  it  develops  into  a  perfect 
picture,  thus  forming  a  gradual  and  pleasing  introduction  to  a 
scene.  The  fade-out  is  just  the  reverse  operation,  with  the  film 
showing  a  perfect  picture  which  gradually  darkens  and  finally 
disappears  in  inky  iDlackness. 


No  doubt  the  most 
common  effects  in 
jRlms,  the  '^fade-in*' 
and  the  ♦♦  fade-out" 
can  be  produced  with 
any  camera  by  means 
of  the  iris  diaphragm 
of  the  lens,  as  well  as 
by  other  means.  Some 
cameras,  such  as  the 
one  above,  have  auto- 
matic "fade-in"  and 
"fade-out"  devices' 


THE 


'FADE-OUT"   EFFECT   AND   A   PITTMAN    CAMERA    EQUIPPED 
WITH   AN    AUTOMATIC    "FADE-OUT"    DEVICE 


94  The  Cameraman  and  His  Art 

Both  these  effects  are  produced  by  simply  using  the  lens 
diaphragm  of  the  camera.  In  the  fade-in  the  diaphragm,  which 
has  been  explained  as  a  sort  of  light  valve,  at  first  is  completely 
closed  but  is  gradually  opened  so  as  to  allow  more  and  more  light 
to  reach  the  film  until  the  full  amount  of  light  is  attained,  while 
in  the  fade-out  the  reverse  procedure  is  followed  out.  Most 
cameras  are  now  provided  with  automatic  devices  that  can  be 
set  to  fade-in  or  fade-out  a  scene  in  5,  10,  or  20  feet,  according 
to  requirements.  The  cameraman  merely  sets  the  indicator  at 
the  desired  footage  and  cranks  away  without  further  attention, 
knowing  that  the  effect  is  being  produced  perhaps  more  evenly 
than  could  be  done  by  hand. 

There  are  cameras,  however,  in  which  the  diaphragm  does  not 
close  altogether,  hence  it  is  impossible  to  obtain  a  complete  fade- 
in  or  fade-out  effecto  In  which  case  other  means  are  sometimes 
employed,  among  them  a  screen  of  graduated  transparency  which 
slides  in  front  of  the  lens,  running  from  transparency  to  opaque 
or  vice  versa,  as  the  case  may  be.  There  are  also  certain  chemical 
means,  one  of  which  consists  of  placing  the  strip  of  film  on  an 
inclined  board  and  treating  it  with  proper  chemicals  starting  at 
one  end  and  allowing  the  ever-weakening  solution  to  roll  down 
to  the  lower  end.  This  last  process  is  more  in  the  nature  of  an 
improvision,  when  a  fade-out  or  fade-in  must  be  produced  in  the 
laboratory. 

Now  these  effects  have  a  most  important  application  in  joining 
two  scenes  together  so  that  one  literally  dissolves  or  flows  into 
the  other.  This  result  is  achieved  by  first  fading  out  a  scene, 
noting  the  footage  allowed  for  the  operation,  and  then  winding 
back  the  film  so  as  to  return  it  to  the  top  magazine  while  the 
lens  is  masked,  only  to  fade-in  the  new  scene  in  the  same  length 
of  film.  Thus  while  one  scene  is  growing  gradually  weaker  the 
following  one  is  growing  stronger;  and  by  adjusting  the  degree 
of  overlap  the  dissolving  effect  can  be  altered  as  desired. 

THE   "circle   vignette" 

Numerous  devices  have  followed  the  fade-in  and  fade-out, 
since  director  and  cameraman  discovered  that  there  were  other 
possibihties  in  film  photography,  aside  from  the  regular  run  of 
plain  work.    Film  producers  are  always  ready  to  try  new  effects. 


The  "circle  vignette,"  or 
•* circle-in"  and  ''circle- 
out"  is  now  a  common 
bit  of  technique,  and 
is  employed  in  much 
the  same  way  as  the 
"fade-in",  except  that  it 
also  serves  to  isolate  part 
of  a  scene  for  the  pur- 
pose of  concentration. 
The  above  device  for 
producing  the  "circle 
vignette"  effect  is  in- 
tended for  the  Bell  & 
Howell  Camera. 


THE    "CIRCLE    VIGNETTE"    AND    A    TYPICAL    ATTACHMENT    FOR    PRO- 
DUCING THIS  EFFECT 


96  The  Cameraman  and  His  Art 

which,  when  they  once  appear  on  the  screen,  arc  immediately 
copied  by  competing  producers  whose  cameramen,  after  viewing 
the  novel  effects,  either  deduce  the  method  used  or  substitute  one 
of  their  own.  In  any  event,  no  screen  effect  can  long  remain  a 
trade  secret. 

A  recent  photoplay  device  is  the  "circle  vignette,"  or  "circle-in" 
and  "circle-out,"  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  by  which  is  meant  the 
fading  out  of  the  corners  and  sides  of  a  scene  so  that  it  no  longer 
has  the  sharp  outline  or  rectangular  frame  which  is  often  detri- 
mental to  an  otherwise  artistic  picture.  The  circle  vignette  has 
the  tendency  to  blend  the  edges  of  certain  scenes  with  the  dark- 
ness of  the  theatre,  with  the  most  artistic  results. 

While  there  are  several  ways  of  obtaining  the  circle  vignette 
effect,  the  most  popular  appears  to  be  the  use  of  an  iris  diaphragm 
in  front  of  the  lens,  which  permits  the  field  of  the  lens  to  be 
altered  from  the  rectangle  to  a  circle  of  any  size.  As  a  variation 
of  the  fade-in  and  fade-out,  the  circle  vignette  can  be  used  to 
circle-in  and  circle-out  a  scene.  Thus  a  picture  suddenly  opens 
up  from  blackness  to  a  round  scene  of  ever-increasing  diameter 
until  the  rectangular  outline  of  the  standard  frame  is  attained 
if  carried  out  to  the  limit.  It  is  as  though  the  scene  were  beheld 
through  a  hole  of  steadily-increasing  size.  The  circle-in,  as  its 
name  indicates,  is  the  reverse  effect,  with  the  picture  dwindling 
dow^n  to  a  pinhole  and  solid  blackness. 

Hard  or  soft  edges  can  be  obtained  with  circle  vignette  scenes, 
depending  on  the  distance  between  the  iris  diaphragm  and  the 
lens.  By  bringing  the  former  close  to  the  lens  it  becomes  so  much 
out  of  focus  that  the  edges  are  blurred  and  soft  and  produce  a 
highly  artistic  border  for  a  suitable  scene. 

Some  cameramen  prefer  to  make  their  own  devices  for  vig- 
nette effects,  employing  various  materials  which  do  not  cut  off  all 
the  light  rays.  The  most  common  of  these  devices  are  screens 
prepared  from  ordinary  portrait  film,  which  is  cleared  or  made 
transparent  and  then  dipped  in  an  appropriate  dye.  When  the 
film  is  cleared  and  colored,  a  hole  of  the  required  size  is  cut  in  the 
center  or  at  any  other  selected  point.  Another  method  is  to  employ 
sensitive  portrait  film  which  is  exposed  to  the  light  and  de- 
veloped to  the  required  point,  fixed,  washed  and  dried  in  the 
usual  manner.     It  is  then  shaped  to  meet  requirements.     Still 


^J8  The  Cameraman  and  His  Art 

other  screens  are  made  of  fine  wire  netting,  so  that  a  soft,  blurred 
edge  is  produced  with  a  half-tone  frame  or  border. 

The  square  vignette  accomplishes  the  same  ends  as  the  circle 
vignette  with  the  difference  that  it  works  as  a  square  instead  of 
a  circle.  Mechanically,  it  comprises  two  overlapping  blades  with 
a  right-angle  cut  in  the  facing  edges,  so  that  the  two  form  a 
square  opening  of  adjustable  size  depending  on  the  degree  of  over- 
lap. The  blades  are  moved  toward  or  away  from  each  other  by 
a  single  lever.  As  seen  on  the  screen  the  square  vignette  moves 
the  four  sides  of  the  picture  toward  the  center  or  away  from  it, 
simultaneously.  Again,  by  adjusting  the  distance  between  the 
blades  and  the  lens,  hard  or  soft  edges  can  be  obtained.  The 
square  vignette  can  be  employed  for  diamond  effects  by  turning 
its  square  opening  at  an  angle  to  the  usual  rectangular  frame. 

Still  another  device  is  the  curtain  vignette,  in  which  but  two 
sides  are  moved.  It  can  be  employed  to  cause  the  top  and  the 
bottom  or  the  sides  of  a  picture  to  come  together  or  draw  apart. 
By  using  only  one  side  the  effect  of  a  rising  curtain  or  a  sliding 
door  is  obtained.  The  curtain  vignette  can  also  be  used,  as  is  the 
circle  vignette,  for  isolating  and  vignetting  some  object,  such  as 
a  doorway,  a  single  actor,  and  so  on;  in  which  case  just  the  one 
object  is  shown  in  a  delicately  vignetted  or  sharply  outlined  panel. 
Mechanically,  this  device  consists  of  two  blades  which  are  simul- 
taneously moved  toward  or  away  from  each  other  on  the  same 
plane  by  means  of  a  single  lever. 

HOW   THE   CAMERA   MAKES   TWO  ACTORS   OUT   OF   ONE 

Double  exposures,  which  are  a  source  of  never-ending  awe  to 
the  layman,  are  produced  in  several  ways.  One  of  these  is  by 
means  of  companion  masks  or  matts  w^hich  make  it  possible  to 
expose  certain  parts  of  the  film  at  a  time.  With  matt  No.  1,  for 
example,  everything  is  exposed  on  the  film  surface  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  small  circular  patch.  When  matt  No.  2  is  inserted 
and  the  film  has  been  returned  to  the  top  magazine  while  masking 
the  lens,  the  film  is  again  exposed  with  the  desired  action  coming 
in  the  small  circular  patch  which  is  now  uncovered  by  the  metal 
mask.    In  this  manner  a  vision  effect  is  produced. 

The  matts  come  in  a  wide  variety  of  designs,  ranging  from  the 
overlapping  circles  meant  to  represent  the  scene  through  a  pair 


This  is  the  double-ex- 
posure box  or  split-stage 
attachment,  included  in 
a  circle-vignette  device, 
the  entire  combination 
being  clamped  in  front 
of  the  camera  lens* 
Pieces  of  glass  can  be 
inserted  in  the  slot 
shown.  At  the  right  is  a 
sample  of  double-expo- 
sure film  made  with  the 
attachment. 


ONE  FORM  OF  SPLIT-STAGE  BOX  AND  A  TYPICAL  STRIP  OF  FILM  SHOWING 
A  PLAYER  DOUBLED 


100  The  Cameraman  and  His  Art 


of  binoculars,  to  the  keyhole  matt  and  star  matt.  These  little 
metal  frames  are  placed  in  front  of  the  film  in  the  aperture  or 
''window." 

In  scenes  where  the  same  actor  plays  opposite  himself — ^the 
''twin  brother"  stuff,  so  to  speak — the  effect  is  secured  by  the 
careful  use  of  matched  matts.  First  the  man  is  placed  on  one 
side  of  the  stage,  and  his  actions  filmed  in  half  of  each  frame  by 
means  of  the  first  matt ;  and  then  the  second  matt  is  substituted, 
the  lens  covered  and  the  film  wound  back,  and  the  actor  takes  his 
place  on  the  other  half  of  the  stage.  The  film  is  again  exposed, 
this  time  with  the  fresh  half  bared  and  the  exposed  half  masked 
by  the  second  matt. 

The  proper  synchronizing  of  the  two  halves  is  all-important. 
The  director  has  to  time  the  first  action  and  then  coach  the  sec- 
ond so  that  the  two  halves  will  match  up.  This  is  referred  to  as 
"acting  by  counts."  Otherwise  the  screen  effect  is  apt  to  prove 
ludicrous. 

Another  method  of  obtaining  double  exposures  is  by  means  of 
the  so-called  double-exposure  box,  which  consists  of  a  light-proof 
holder  which  takes  a  sheet  of  transparent  glass  that  is  used  for 
holding  opaque  disks  and  other  forms  for  blocking  out  certain 
sections  of  the  film  during  two  or  more  filmings.  The  same  pro- 
cedure is  followed  as  with  the  matts,  the  main  advantage  of  the 
double-exposure  box  being  that  soft  and  not  hard  edges  are  pro- 
duced between  the  subsequent  exposures,  as  contrasted  with  the 
matt  method. 

If  a  black  space  can  be  retained  in  the  first  filming,  the  matts 
and  double-exposure  box  can  be  dispensed  with.  In  the  second 
filming  the  subject  is  registered  in  the  unexposed  section  of  the 
film,  producing  a  vision,  dream,  or  other  effect.  If  figures  only 
are  to  be  shown  in  the  vision  or  dream,  these  are  photographed 
against  a  black  velvet  or  non-reflecting  drop,  making  the  use  of 
matts  unnecessary  in  the  second  filming,  and  eliminating  the 
danger  of  a  dividing  line  between  exposures. 

i 
RETOUCHING   PLAYERS   AND   SCENERY   FOR   THE   CAMERA 

In  film  work  everything  is  considered  in  terms  of  black  and 
white.     To  this  end  the  sets  are  generally  prepared  in  black, 


I 


■     1 

« 

, 

^ 

■ 

i 

:..., 

SAMPLE  STRIPS  OF  FILMS  SHOWING  TITLES  AND  SINGLE  AND  MULTIPLE 
PRINTINGS   MADE  IN   THE   LABORATORY 


102  The  Cameraman  and  His  Art 

brown  and  blue,  although  there  are  many  cases  where  sets  are  in 
full  color. 

White — dazzling  white — is  generally  avoided  in  sets  because 
of  its  strong  reflection  and  consequent  fogging  of  the  film,  known 
as  hallation.  Instead,  a  sky-blue  or  lemon  yellow  is  substituted 
for  white;  so  that  in  reel  life  we  find  sky-blue  or  lemon  yellow 
sheets  and  pillows,  table  cloths  and  napkins.  Even  the  players 
wear  sky-blue  or  yellow  shirts  and  collars  and  ties  and  cuffs. 
And  the  motion-picture  bride  is  dressed  not  in  spotless  white 
but  in  a  brilliant  yellow  gown ! 

Motion-picture  makeup  is  also  in  a  class  by  itself,  differing 
totally  from  that  of  the  legitimate  stage.  The  possibilities  of 
color  and  the  wonderful  lighting  effects  of  the  stage  are  big  fac- 
tors when  playing  to  an  audience  sitting  many  feet  away.  Dis- 
tance never  fails  to  lend  enchantment.  But  in  the  case  of  the 
screen  star  there  are  no  colors,  no  flattering  colored-lighting 
effects  combined  with  distance  to  help  out.  The  camera  must 
be  faced  at  short  range,  and  it  is  always  ready  to  exaggerate 
every  defect  in  the  player's  complexion  during  the  telling  close- 
ups.    Hence  it  boils  down  to  a  matter  of  facial  camouflage. 

Carmine  must  be  sparingly  used  in  photoplay  makeup  because 
it  photographs  a  dead  black.  Beautiful  pink  cheeks  must  often 
be  toned  down  for  picture  purposes  by  the  liberal  application  of 
yellowish  creams  and  powders.  Your  buxom  screen  beauty  pho- 
tographs best  when  her  makeup  would  brand  her  in  real  life  as  a 
victim  of  jaundice,  with  her  greasy,  yellow  face.  Then  the  face 
must  be  outlined  here  and  there  with  blue  pencil  where  the  fea- 
tures are  weak,  while  the  eyelids,  to  show  at  all,  must  be  thickly 
coated  with  cosmetic  and  lamp  black  until  they  are  heavy  and 
beaded. 

Makeup  in  photoplay  production  is  largely  a  matter  of  the 
individual  player.  Some  players  require  practically  no  makeup, 
while  others  have  to  spend  much  time  before  appearing  before 
the  camera,  lacking  as  they  do  a  "camera  face,"  or  a  face  that 
''photographs  like  a  million  dollars,"  to  fall  back  on  studio  par- 
lance. 

The  beauty  of  screen  players  is  greatly  enhanced  by  artistic 
lighting.  By  means  of  the  so-called  back  lighting,  whereby  the 
light  is  thrown  on  the  back  of  the  player,  the  outlines  and  hair 


104  The  Cameraman  and  His  Art 

of  a  player  can  be  beautifully  illuminated.  Screens  of  special 
reflecting  cloth  are  also  used  to  reflect  light  onto  the  players  so 
as  to  avoid  sharp  shadows. 

The  final  authority  on  makeup  and  lighting  is  the  skilled 
cameraman,  for  he  knows  the  hmitations  of  his  camera  and  film 
and  understands  what  any  makeup  and  lighting  mean  when 
translated  into  black  and  white.  Makeup  to  him  is  a  purely 
mechanical  process,  and  illumination  is  but  a  means  to  the  end. 

THE   BUGABOO   OF   THE    CAMERAMAN 

Talk  to  a  cameraman  for  a  while  and  he  will  come  around  to 
the  subject  of  ^^static,"  which  is  the  bete  noir  of  most  knights  of 
the  crank.  Static  is  a  form  of  electricity  which  exists  as  a  charge 
on  a  body.  The  most  familiar  form  is  no  doubt  that  which  causes 
paper  to  stick  to  the  hands  or  to  stick  together  during  cold,  dry 
weather.  In  the  motion-picture  camera  a  static  charge  is  often 
generated  in  cold  and  dry  weather  by  the  moving  of  the  celluloid 
film  through  the  mechanism.  Tiny,  lightning-like  streaks,  in- 
visible to  the  naked  eye  but  nevertheless  having  full  effect  on  the 
sensitive  film  emulsion,  play  about  on  the  negative  with  the 
result  that  when  it  is  developed  it  is  found  covered  with  tree-like 
streaks.  There  is  no  way  of  eliminating  the  static  once  it  has 
left  its  mark  on  the  film.  The  streaks  are  photographed  on  the 
film  just  as  permanently  as  the  regular  exposures. 

And  so  it  is  that  tens  of  thousands  of  feet  of  film  is  spoiled 
every  year  because  of  static.  Many  scenes  are  more  or  less 
ruined  by  this  phenomenon  without  the  knowledge  of  the  camera- 
man until  the  film  is  developed  at  the  laboratory. 

There  are  about  as  many  ways  to  eliminate  static  as  there  arc 
skilled  cameramen.  One  will  explain  one  sure  way,  while  an- 
other explains  another  but  totally  different  sure  way,  while  still 
a  third  explains  the  only  way;  and  so  on  without  end.  One  of 
the  schemes  used  is  to  keep  a  moist  sponge  within  the  camera 
when  -there  is  danger  of  static,  so  as  always  to  create  enough 
humidity  to  prevent  static ;  for  static  is  generated  in  dry  weather. 
Another  method  is  to  employ  a  small  steam  boiler  and  alcohol 
lamp,  which  introduces  small  quantities  of  steam  into  the  camera 
so  as  to  provide  the  necessary  moisture.  Another  method  is  to 
"ground"  the  static;  that  is  to  say,  the  electric  charge  is  carried 


a  td 
fd  O 

o  ■ 


r  > 

2  cc 


Cfl 


O  c« 
►^  W 
>? 

^  a 

W  td 
w  o 

H  O 

o« 

S  t?j 
w 

H 
O 

g 


106  The  Cameraman  and  His  Art 

off  to  the  earth  before  it  can  do  any  damage.  For  this  purpose 
an  all-metal  crank  is  employed  and  the  static  is  presumably 
grounded  through  the  operator's  hand  to  the  earth. 

Film  manufacturers  have  tackled  this  problem  of  static  and 
have  brought  out  certain  kinds  of  negative  film  which  are  more 
or  less  proof  against  static  markings.  One  manufacturer  calls 
this  special  film  X-back,  and  it  is  coated  on  both  sides  of  the 
celluloid  base.  Such  film  is  used  almost  exclusively  by  com- 
panies working  in  cold,  dry  climate. 

But  if  you  would  interest  a  cameraman,  always  start  by  asking 
him  what  he  knows  about  static.  That  is  bound  to  be  the  open- 
ing wedge. 


CHAPTER  VI 


IN  THE  LAND  OF  MAKE  BELIEVE 


W^EA  LISM  IS  one  of  the  main  slocks  in  trade  of  the 
/^  screen  production.  Compared  with  the  speaking 
stage,  with  its  highly  artificial  scenery  which  lacks 
correct  perspective  and  general  impressiveness,  the  motion 
picture  makes  use  of  backgrounds  both  natural  and 
artificial  which  have  depth  as  well  as  height  and  breadth. 
The  absence  of  colors  is  more  than  made  up  by  the 
general  realism  of  the  black-and-white  picture.  The 
scenery  of  the  entire  world  is  available  for  the  picture 
play;  and  all  the  world's  scenery  can  be  brought  to  the 
studio  in  these  days  of  skilled  screen  artisans  to  whom 
nothing  seems  impossible.  Realism  has  made  the  success 
of  present  photoplays;  and  the  screen  artisans  have  made 
film  realism  what  it  is. 


108  ifi  the  Land  of  Make  Believe 

THE  audience  is  tense  with  excitement  as  the  hero  in  the 
film  play  struggles  frantically  with  the  control  apparatus 
of  a  submarine  that  is  fast  sinking  to  the  ocean  bottom, 
because  of  the  constantly  rising  water  in  its  hold.  And  as  he 
struggles  at  his  post  the  water  pours  in  on  him  through  an  ugly 
gash  made  in  the  conning  tower  of  the  craft  by  an  enemy  de- 
stroyer. 

Perhaps  it  is  the  climax  in  a  gripping  drama;  then  again,  it 
may  be  the  big  scene  or  ''punch"  in  a  hilarious  comedy.  But 
however  that  may  be,  the  realism  of  the  scene  has  had  the  de- 
sired effect  with  the  audience.  What  dangers  these  motion-picture 
folk  incur!  is  the  general  comment  of  the  unsuspecting  public. 

A   SUBMARINE   THAT   NEVER   SAW   THE   SEA 

For  weeks  the  artisans  of  the  studio  workshops  had  worked 
in  building  this  pseudo  submarine;  and  before  the  camera  crank 
was  turned  the  technical  director  had  gone  over  every  detail  of 
its  construction  to  make  certain  that  it  emulated  successfully 
the  interior  of  a  modern  submarine.  Then  the  studio  hands 
built  a  tank  around  the  scenery.  The  ^'set,"  as  the  scenery  for 
a  motion-picture  scene  is  called,  was  now  ready  for  the  players. 

The  director,  being  unable  to  carry  out  his  program  of  photo- 
graphing certain  outdoor  or  ''location"  scenes  on  that  day  be- 
cause of  rain  or  poor  light,  decided  to  stay  at  the  studio  and 
photograph  the  interior  scenes  called  for  in  the  scenario.  After 
rehearsing  the  action  of  this  particular  scene  several  times,  the 
lamps  flashed  up  and  the  cameraman  took  his  place  by  the  side 
of  the  camera. 

At  the  command  of  the  director  one  of  the  stage  hands  climbed 
up  on  the  deck  of  the  "submarine,"  pulling  a  heavy  hose  after 
him,  which  he  placed  in  the  opening  of  the  conning  tower.  The 
water  was  turned  on  and  it  flowed  through  the  hose  and  passed 
down  in  a  heavy  stream  on  the  back  of  the  actor  playing  the  part 
of  the  hero-sailor,  struggling  with  the  control  mechanism  of  a 
balky  underwater  craft.  Now  the  water,  bounded  on  all  sides 
by  the  improvised  tank  of  wood  and  rubberized  canvas,  slowly 
rose  in  the  "submarine"  interior.  The  camera,  which  all  the 
while  was  recording  the  action,  was  naturally  so  focused  as  to 


DURING    INCLEMENT    WEATHER    AN    "OUTDOOR"    SCENE    CAN    BE    MADE 
IN  THE  STUDIO  WITH  REALISTIC  RESULTS 


110  In  the  Land  of  Make  Believe 

take  in  only  the  desired  portion  of  the  setting — the  sides  of  the 
tank  did  not  show  in  the  film. 

And  the  scene  was  a  success,  because  it  was  convincing. 

Typical  of  the  striving  of  all  American  producers  for  realism 
is  the  foregoing.  A  half  dozen  years  ago  the  audience  of  the 
average  picture  theatre  was  not  so  critical  as  the  audience  of 
today.  Then  motion  pictures  were  still  a  novelty.  The  mere 
fact  that  the  pictures  moved  was  alone  worth  the  admittance 
fee.  Then  a  director  depended  solely  upon  a  mediocre  story  and 
mediocre  acting  to  make  a  film  production  a  success;  whereas 
today  the  director  strives  to  reinforce  these  essentials  with  the 
utmost  realism  of  scenery.  It  is  imperative,  claim  the  producers, 
that  the  pictures  be  replete  with  realism;  the  audience  must  not  be 
permitted  to  recall  the  camouflage  nature  of  the  backgrounds, 
for  that  would  destroy  their  receptive  state  of  mind.  Indeed, 
there  are  many  photoplays  in  which  the  wonderfully  realistic 
backgrounds  have  unduly  contributed  toward  their  success.  In 
brief,  the  audience  must  be  made  to  forget  the  mechanical  end 
of  picture  production;  and  to  this  end  every  effort  is  made  to 
have  even  the  most  insignificant  details  accurate  and  confidence- 
inspiring. 

JACKS — AND   MASTERS — OF  ALL   TRADES 

No  motion-picture  studio  would  be  complete  without  its  car- 
penter shop  and  staff  of  expert  workmen.  There  are  so  many 
things  that  must  be  specially  built  for  the  pictures  that  a  com- 
plete equipment  of  woodworking  and  metalworking  machines  and 
a  skilled  gathering  of  artisans  are  an  absolute  necessity. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  with  any  pretense  to  thor- 
oughness the  range  of  work  turned  out  by  the  studio  workshops. 
It  is  only  by  offering  a  few  examples  of  what  they  do  regularly 
that  a  general  idea  can  be  gained  of  the  scope  of  their  toil.  One 
day  they  may  be  building  a  safe  of  light  wood  or  compressed 
paper — accurately  made  even  to  the  bolt  mechanism — ^which 
may  bring  forth  roars  of  laughter  from  an  audience  at  some  later 
time  when  it  is  dropped  on  the  head  of  a  comedian  in  a  film  play. 
They  may  be  called  upon  to  build  an  airplane,  closely  following 
the  lines  of  a  genuine  machine  that  is  to  be  used  in  the  scenes  of 
actual  flying.     The  workmen  may  perhaps  spend  one  or  two 


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112  In  the  Land  of  Make  Believe 

weeks'  toil  in  building  the  airplane,  exercising  much  ingenuity  in 
its  construction.  As  likely  as  not  the  tires  of  the  landing  gear 
may  be  made  from  short  lengths  of  rubber  hose  or  canvas  tube, 
filled  with  sawdust.  And  the  same  degree  of  ingenuity  may  be 
repeated  a  dozen  times  or  more  in  the  construction  of  this  one 
machine;  all  this  work  to  appear  for  a  few  seconds  on  the  screen, 
and  probably  doomed  to  be  blown  to  pieces  or  burned  to  ashes. 
The  men  may  turn  to  the  construction  of  a  mirth-provoking 
hose-cart  or  fire-wagon  for  the  fire  department  of  some  imaginary 
rural  community.  Again,  historical  or  so-called  period  plays  may 
keep  the  artisans  busy  building  a  replica  of  the  first  steamboat, 
or  making  an  old  stage  coach,  or  a  Roman  gladiator's  weapons, 
or  even  an  ancient  catapult  to  batter  down  Roman  fortress  walls 
built  of  wood  and  plaster. 

It's  all  in  the  day's  work! 

In  a  recent  war  play,  four  huge  siege  guns  figured  conspicu- 
ously in  the  battle  scenes  between  defenders  and  invaders.  Each 
gun  was  a  faithful  reproduction  of  the  famous  Krupp  28-centi- 
meter siege  howitzers,  mounted  on  caterpillar  wheels.  When 
this  artillery  was  shown  on  the  screen,  even  a  military  man  un- 
doubtedly had  to  take  a  second  look  in  order  to  learn  their  true 
nature.    But  to  the  lay  audience  the  effect  was  perfect. 

Made  of  wood  and  provided  with  an  iron- lined  barrel  to  with- 
stand the  flash  powder  used  to  simulate  discharges,  these  guns 
probably  stood  for  the  highest  attainment  of  studio  artisans  up 
till  that  time.  At  the  detonation  of  a  little  powder  in  the  iron- 
lined  barrel,  the  gun  moved  back  with  its  recoil  cylinders  in  the 
most  realistic  manner.  Ten  thousand  dollars  each  is  said  to 
have  been  the  cost  of  building  these  guns;  yet  what  a  convincing 
touch  they  lent  the  photoplay ! 

The  producer  of  a  submarine  story  which  in  its  main  essentials 
closely  follows  the  theme  of  Jules  Verne's  "Twenty  Thousand 
Leagues  Under  the  Sea,"  recently  endeavored  to  secure  the  loan 
of  a  United  States  submarine  from  the  Navy,  but  without  success 
according  to  the  story.  Whereupon  he  set  to  work  building  a 
submarine  of  sheet  iron,  with  a  length  of  over  100  feet,  a  beam 
of  15  feet,  and  a  draft  of  four  feet.  The  shell  had  to  be  of  suffi- 
cient strength  to  withstand  a  submergence  of  over  forty  feet. 
By  means  of  ballast  tanks  the  submarine  could  take  on  water  in 


HERE  ARE  THREE  EXAMPLES  OF  THE  FILM  ARTISANS'  HANDIWORK 
OUT  IN  THE  OPEN 


114  In  the  Land  of  Make  Believe 

order  to  settle  down  to  the  shallow  sea  bottom,  w^liile  compressed 
air  tanks  permitted  of  blowing  out  the  water  ballast  when  the 
craft  was  to  be  brought  up  to  the  surface  again. 

The  submarine,  to  continue  the  description,  w^as  also  fitted  with 
a  torpedo  tube  taking  a  regulation  torpedo.  In  all,  six  months' 
time  w^as  expended  in  building  this  submarine,  which  closely  fol- 
lowed the  lines  of  the  "Nautilus,"  the  famous  craft  of  Captain 
Nemo.  In  fact,  that  may  have  been  one  reason  why  the  pro- 
ducer set  to  work  building  his  own  submarine,  which  followed 
the  description  of  the  French  author  and  was  provided  with  a 
lock  in  its  bottom  through  which  divers  wearing  self-contained 
suits,  could  pass  out  to  the  ocean  floor. 

RAINSTORMS   AND   THUNDERSTORMS   TO   ORDER 

In  a  certain  production  of  the  usual  drama  category,  there  was 
to  be  a  garden  scene  during  a  thunder  storm.  One  of  the  features 
of  the  scene  was  a  driving  rain;  another,  a  flash  of  lightning. 
The  scenario  called  for  these  things:  there  was  nothing  else  to 
do  but  get  them. 

But  this  was  comparatively  simple  to  men  who  must  build 
whole  cities  and  fortresses  and  bridges  and  mountains.  An 
airplane  propeller  was  mounted  on  a  substantial  support,  and  to 
it  was  applied  through  belting  the  power  of  an  electric  motor. 
An  artificial  garden  set  was  soon  arranged  and  housed  in  a  suit- 
able shelter  to  make  it  dark — the  photographing  took  place  on 
the  roof  of  the  studio,  on  a  bright,  sunny  day.  Above  the  set 
was  arranged  a  trough,  perforated  with  many  holes  to  allow  water 
to  drop  below. 

When  everything  was  ready,  the  electric  motor  was  started, 
causing  the  airplane  propeller  to  blow  up  a  veritable  hurricane 
through  the  set.  Stage  hands  with  watering  cans  began  to  pour 
water  into  the  trough  and  rain  began  to  fall  on  the  shrubbery 
below.  Caught  by  the  wind,  much  of  the  man-made  rain  was 
violently  blown  across  the  stage,  simulating  a  powerful,  angry 
gale.  Then  at  the  propitious  moment  another  stage  had  set  off  a 
flashlight,  giving  the  desired  effect  on  the  film. 

Which  bespeaks  well  of  the  skill  of  the  artisans  of  the  screen. 
Most  of  their  work  is  done  in  wood  and  canvas,  although  occa- 
sionally they  resort  to  metal,  as  witness  the  submarine  already 


PERFORATED    TANK    ABOVE    THE    SET    AND    A    MOTOR-DRIVEN    AIR- 
PLANE PROPELLER  MAKE  A  SCREEN  STORM 


116  In  the  Land  of  Make  Believe 

mentioned.  Papier  mache,  plaster  of  paris,  compressed  fiber  and 
clay  are  also  employed  in  profusion,  especially  in  the  making  of 
statues,  ornate  panels,  and  other  work  of  a  similar  nature. 

The  equipment  of  most  motion-picture  studios  is  usually  such 
as  would  do  justice  to  a  thriving  wood- working  shop  and  machine 
shop  combined.  A  typical  comedy-producing  studio  in  southern 
California,  for  instance,  has  over  $2,000  worth  of  woodworking 
equipment  in  its  carpenter  shop,  while  the  stock  of  lumber  con- 
stantly on  hand  and  other  items  are  said  to  bring  the  total  up 
to  $4,000.  The  concern  employs  regularly  over  seventy-five 
carpenters. 

BUILDING  INTERIORS  TO  FIT  THE  STORY 

The  interior  settings  of  a  film  play  require  the  closest  attention 
on  the  part  of  the  producers.  For  here  again  the  constant  demand 
for  accuracy  and  realism  is  paramount.  The  smallest  details 
must  be  watched.  If  the  director  calls  for  a  tenement  house 
scene,  the  stage  carpenters  must  build  him  a  dilapidated  hall 
and  stairs,  and  small,  squalid  rooms.  The  scene  must  appear 
much  the  worse  from  wear  and  old  age — ^the  steps  must  look 
worn;  the  walls  must  be  marred,  with  here  and  there  an  ugly 
crack  and  a  gap  showing  the  lath ;  and  dirt  there  must  be  a-plenty. 

Again,  if  the  director  calls  for  the  home  of  a  rich  man,  it  is 
necessary  that  he  state  what  kind  of  rich  man  the  film  author 
had  in  mind.  Is  he  a  wealthy  man  from  a  family  of  long  stand- 
ing? Or  is  he  a  nouveau  riche?  If  he  belong  to  the  former  class, 
the  furnishings  are  to  be  of  a  quiet,  harmonious  design,  with  the 
paintings  and  other  ornamentation  going  to  reflect  good  taste  and 
wealth.  If  he  belong  to  the  latter  class,  the  furnishings  and 
other  details  of  the  interior  must  be  of  the  garish  sort. 

It  does  not  necessarily  follow  that  in  real  life  a  man  of  the 
nouveau  riche  class  must  have  garish  taste,  or  a  man  born  of 
wealth,  good  taste,  or  a  tenement  must  always  have  a  run-down 
appearance.  But  it  is  so  in  reel  life,  for  there  are  certain  well- 
defined  conventions  in  motion-picture  production.  Furthermore, 
exaggeration  is  a  necessary  tool  where  nothing  can  be  left  to  the 
imagination  of  an  audience. 

ASKING   THE   TECHNICAL   DIRECTOR  HOW   IT   SHOULD   LOOK 

Obviously,  it  would  not  do  to  leave  the  selection  of  furnishings 


118  In  the  Land  of  Make  Believe 

and  their  proper  arrangement  to  stage  hands  and  carpenters, 
and  accordingly  the  demand  for  accuracy  and  realism  has  brought 
into  existence  a  new  type  of  executive  in  the  film  industry — the 
technical  director,  or  art  director,  as  he  is  sometimes  called. 
To  hiril  falls  the  task  of  reading  through  the  synopsis  or  scenario 
of  a  film  story,  followed  by  the  planning  and  the  supervision  of 
the  erection  of  the  sets.  He  is  responsible  for  the  arrangement  of 
the  furnishings,  even  down  to  the  smallest  details,  as  well  as  for 
the  costuming  of  the  players.  However,  he  is  not  responsible 
for  the  work  of  the  actors ;  that  task  remains,  as  ever,  in  the  realm 
of  the  director. 

The  technical  director  must  be  a  veritable  human  encyclo- 
paedia. His  must  be  a  remarkably  broad  knowledge,  acquired 
through  travel,  reading,  and  a  wide  range  of  acquaintances.  And 
what  he  does  not  know  he  must  be  able  to  "dig  up"  at  short  no- 
tice.   Here  is  a  typical  case  of  how  his  knowledge  is  applied: 

If  a  scene  is  laid  in  a  certain  country  and  the  time  is  different 
from  the  present,  he  must  know  what  garments  the  players  are  to 
wear,  the  accouterments  of  the  soldiers,  the  etiquette  of  the 
period  and  country,  the  furnishings  of  the  interiors,  the  head- 
dress of  the  women,  and  a  thousand- and-one  other  details. 

Perhaps  actual  incidents  are  most  convincing  in  illustrating  how 
the  directors  strive  for  accuracy,  and  how  the  absence  of  technical 
direction  may  be  fatal  to  an  otherwise  flawless  production.  The 
story  is  told  of  how  Irvin  Cobb,  the  noted  American  writer,  was 
visiting  a  prominent  Los  Angeles  studio  while  a  director  was  re- 
hearsing a  scene  of  a  war  play  in  which  a  regiment  of  German 
soldiers  were  marching  through  a  Belgian  village.  To  add  what 
he  considered  a  touch  of  comfort  and  naturalness  to  the  scene, 
the  director  had  the  men  leave  their  coats  unbuttoned. 

Mr.  Cobb,  then  only  recently  returned  from  the  war  zone,  was 
horrified  at  this  gross  misrepresentation  of  facts.  He  did  not 
hesitate  to  tell  the  director  that  at  no  time  do  the  Germans  have 
their  coats  unbuttoned  while  actually  on  the  march  or  on  duty. 
The  director  was  grateful  for  the  information,  for  he  realized  the 
humiliation  that  might  have  been  his  if  the  otherwise  perfect 
scene  were  held  up  to  ridicule  by  the  better-informed  of  the  mil- 
lions who  would  ultimately  view  the  picture.  At  the  same  time 
the  author  commented  on  the  wearing  of  the  Iron  Cross  decora- 


120  In  the  Land  of  Make  Believe 

tion,  which  the  director  had  insisted  the  men  should  wear  con- 
spicuously, whereas  it  is  actually  tucked  away  with  only  its 
characteristic  black  and  white  ribbon  showing.  In  view  of  these 
two  instances,  can  there  be  any  doubt  of  the  necessity  of  a  tech- 
nical director? 

THE   COST   OF   REALISM 

To  return  to  interior  settings:  These  represent  one  of  the  big 
items  of  expense  in  the  production  of  a  film.  One  reason  is  that 
the  average  set  can  be  used  for  one  production  only,  after  which 
it  must  be  dismantled.  In  the  earlier  days  the  audience  might 
not  have  commented  on  seeing  the  same  pieces  of  furniture  used 
several  times.  But  today  the  audience  is  more  observing  and  will 
soon  detect  any  attempt  to  use  the  same  lamp,  settee,  or  other 
furniture  and  furnishings  repeatedly.  Conspicuous  repetition 
has  got  to  be  avoided  by  the  producers.  And  as  in  the  instance 
of  the  garments  worn  by  the  players,  the  furniture  must  be 
in  keeping  with  the  last  word  in  interior  furnishings.  This  means 
that  every  large  studio  maintains  a  large  storage  room  or  several 
rooms  in  which  an  almost  endless  variety  of  furnishings  are 
always  on  hand. 

The  walls  of  an  interior  set  are  generally  built  of  compressed 
paper  or  light  board,  backed  up  with  framework  and  props,  to 
facilitate  the  work  of  erection  and  destruction.  Tremendous 
quantities  of  the  necessary  materials  are  employed  in  the  course 
of  a  year,  as  witness  some  50,000  feet  or  more  of  compressed 
paper  board  used  by  a  leading  comedy  producer,  together  with 
over  500,000  feet  of  lumber.  The  same  concern  spends  over 
$1,800  for  some  15,000  rolls  of  wall  paper  each  year,  with  which 
to  cover  the  walls  of  its  sets. 

The  cost  of  even  the  most  modest  set  runs  up  into  the  hun- 
dreds of  dollars,  for  it  must  be  remembered  that  practically 
every  set  must  be  built  and  decorated  to  order,  and  filled  with 
the  necessary  furniture,  which  may  not  be  used  for  a  long  time 
to  come.  Elaborate  sets  run  up  into  the  thousands  of  dollars. 
A  good  restaurant  Or  carbaret  scene  may  cost  from  $2,000  to 
$5,000,  depending  upon  its  elaborateness  and  size.  A  setting  call- 
ing for  intricate  electric  lighting  effects  sometimes  exceeds  the 
$5,000  mark;  for  instance,  the  witches'  scene  in  a  certain  produc- 


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122  In  the  Land  of  Make  Believe 

tion  of  "Macbeth,"  is  said  to  have  cost  over  $10,000  because  of 
the  elaborate  apparatus  for  producing  the  wierd  fire  effects. 

IN    THE   LAND   OF   TWO-DIMENSIONED   STRUCTURES 

It  is  in  the  outdoor  sets,  however,  that  the  film  artisan  finds 
his  biggest  field  of  endeavor.  For  under  the  open  skies  his 
undertakings  are  not  hindered  by  space  limitations  and  can  there- 
fore assume  the  most  gigantic  proportions.  Here  again,  however, 
the  question  of  realism  is  the  first  consideration;  here,  too,  the 
technical  director  must  exercise  his  knowledge,  but  in  this  case 
it  is  architectural  design  in  particular  that  he  must  know. 

Perhaps  the  greatest  set  that  has  ever  been  constructed  up 
until  the  time  of  writing  was  one  representing  the  ancient  city  of 
Babylon,  used  in  a  gigantic  production.  On  the  front  of  this 
huge  setting — the  side  that  faced  the  motion-picture  camera — 
there  rose  high  walls  painted  to  simulate  stone,  100  feet  in  height 
and  adorned  with  reliefs  of  strange  winged  creatures  and  stand- 
ing elephants.  The  towers  in  this  set  stood  135  feet  high,  and  the 
various  structures  covered  a  ten-acre  tract  of  land  in  Hollywood, 
California,  just  outside  of  Los  Angeles.  For  more  than  six 
months  the  carpenters,  masons,  concrete  workers  and  painters 
were  busied  with  the  set,  and  the  cost  of  the  work  is  reported  to 
have  been  in  excess  of  $50,000. 

But  slightly  less  pretentious  was  the  set  erected  at  an  approxi- 
mate cost  of  $35,000,  representing  the  palace,  house  of  parUament, 
prison,  royal  court,  and  adjacent  buildings  in  a  mythical  capital 
featured  in  a  war  photoplay.  The  first  spadeful  of  earth  in 
preparation  for  the  erection  of  the  set  was  turned  in  May,  1915. 
The  completed  set  was  ready  for  use  in  November  of  the  same 
year.  Into  its  construction  went  thirty  carloads,  or  approxi- 
mately 600,000  feet,  of  lumber.  Glass  valued  at  a  total  of  $4,000 
was  necessary  for  the  several  hundred  windows,  while  tons  upon 
tons  of  cement  and  plaster  were  used  as  the  other  principal  ma- 
terials. For  the  steps  of  the  largest  building  alone,  ten  tons  of 
cement  were  used.  The  sidewalks,  with  their  curbings,  measured 
some  1,200  feet,  and  twenty  men  were  employed  for  three  months 
laying  them  out  and  arranging  the  parking  between.  Trees, 
shrubbery  and  lamps  were  among  the  ornaments  placed  within 
the  boundaries  of  the  set.    In  sum,  covering  an  area  of  over  six 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES    AND    WHAT    THE    CAMERA    REALLY    SAW    IN    THE 
CASE  OF  A  SET  WHICH  COST  $35,000  TO  BUILD 


124  In  the  Land  of  Make  Believe 

and  one  half  acres,  the  set  has  stood  atop  one  of  the  hills  in 
southern  California,  enduring  the  elements  successfully  as  though 
it  were  intended  as  a  permanent  structure.  Like  most  motion- 
picture  sets,  it  is  primarily  a  "front";  for  the  rear  view  is  not 
unlike  that  of  an  outdoor  advertising  sign. 

It  is  principally  in  portraying  foreign  scenes  that  the  film  arti-. 
sans  are  called  upon  to  build  elaborate  sets.  Years  ago  when  the 
industry  was  very  young  and  very  crude,  companies  traveled 
abroad  in  order  to  produce  plays  at  the  actual  locations  called 
for  in  the  scenario.  That  was  their  way  of  securing  realism. 
Today,  in  marked  contrast,  the  producers  find  it  easier  to  bring 
the  foreign  or  distant  spots  to  the  studio,  literally  speaking.  By 
paying  extra  attention  to  minute  details  and  sparing  no  expense, 
the  producers  are  able  to  convince  any  audience  no  matter  how 
critical  it  may  be. 

So  all  parts  of  the  world  have  been  brought  to  the  foothills  of 
California,  the  shores  or  Florida,  and  the  Palisades  of  New 
Jersey,  where  producers  have  better  laboratory  facilities,  under- 
stand the  light  conditions,  can  secure  all  the  experienced  players 
they  require — and  save  time  and  money. 

Typical  instances  of  foreign  sets  erected  ''somewhere  in  Amer- 
ica" have  been  the  barracks  of  Delhi,  India,  and  a  street  scene  in 
a  village  of  a  mythical  country,  both  of  which  were  recently 
erected  and  used  by  a  Western  producer.  The  former  consisted  of 
seven  individual  structures  and  entailed  an  expenditure  of  $3,000; 
the  latter  represented  a  street  lined  with  houses  of  sohd  con- 
struction. The  houses  were  made  of  plaster- covered  timbers, 
while  the  stone  walls  and  trees  were  handled  with  great  care  to 
obtain  correctness  of  detail.  The  entire  set  required  about  six 
weeks  to  build  and  involved  an  -outlay  of  perhaps  $5,000. 

There  is  practically  no  end  to  the  elaborate  outdoor  sets  erected 
by  motion-picture  producers.  Of  the  film  production  of  ''Ra- 
mona,"  it  is  said  that  over  1,800  sets  were  erected;  the  Spanish 
monastery  built  for  this  photoplay  alone  cost  some  $10,000. 

A  commendable  piece  of  work  was  the  set  representing  the 
temple  of  an  Aztec  monarch  in  the  sixteenth  century,  which  was 
used  in  a  recent  production.  Its  framework  was  built  of  timbers, 
but  the  body  was  of  plaster  plaques.  About  7,000  pieces  were 
required,  and  the  total  cost  of  the  set  is  said  to  have  been  $3,000. 


126  In  the  Land  of  Make  Believe 

A  set  representing  a  border  town  on  the  line  separating  Mexico 
from  the  United  States  and  used  in  a  typical  Western  drama  was 
recently  erected  at  a  cost  of  $1,500.  It  consisted  of  fifteen  build- 
ings, each  entirely  of  frame  construction.  While  the  cost  of  the 
village  was  not  great,  at  the  time  it  was  regarded  as  one  of  the 
most  realistic  sets  ever  built  for  the  screen,  because  it  was  more 
than  a  mere  "front." 

There  is  no  end  of  sets  which  might  be  described ;  but  enough 
has  been  said  to  convey  a  fair  idea  of  the  work  of  the  film  artisan 
or  camoufleur  of  the  screen. 

MAKING   THE   MOST  OF   EXISTING   THINGS 

Most  assuredly,  the  building  of  a  convincing  set  is  an  accom- 
plishment. But  is  it  not  more  of  an  accomplishment  to  make  the 
most  of  existing  things — to  change  a  hill  into  a  pyramid,  a  row  of 
telegraph  poles  into  a  line  of  polar  trees  to  simulate  a  shaded 
road  so  typical  of  France,  and  a  farm  house  into  a  Norman 
castle? 

When  the  film  artisan  can  do  otherwise,  he  does  not  go  to  the 
trouble  and  expense  of  building  a  set.  Although  huge  sums  of 
money  are  expended  in  picture  production,  to  be  sure,  still,  every 
cent  is  saved  that  can  possibly  be  saved.  Popular  beUef  to  the 
contrary  notwithstanding,  motion-picture  production  is  like  any 
other  business:  there  must  be  a  certain  ratio  between  expenses 
and  revenue.  So  wherever  money  can  be  saved  by  making  use 
of  existing  scenery,  so  much  the  better. 

It  requires  considerable  ingenuity  and  an  artistic  eye  to  con- 
vert prosaic  things  into  motion-picture  settings.  For  instance, 
for  a  recent  picture  a  little  hill  in  southern  California  was  con- 
verted into  an  Egyptian  pyramid.  How  was  it  done?  Well, 
quite  simply — when  you  know  how.  The  scenery  men  merely 
built  steps  on  opposite  sides  so  that  when  the  hill  was  photo- 
graphed against  the  setting  sun,  a  perfect  silhouette  of  a  pyramid 
some  200  feet  in  height,  resulted.  Of  course,  to  make  a  conven- 
tional picture  of  this  camouflage  pyramid  would  have  been  to 
expose  its  improvised  nature;  but  in  this  case  as  in  many  others 
the  cameraman  came  to  the  rescue. 

In  a  film  production  dealing  with  the  life  of  Joan  of  Arc,  the 
director  required  a  road  bordered  with  tall,  stately  poplar  trees, 


TWO    MORE    VIEWS    OF    THE    LUSITANIA    SET,    SHOWING    THE    SHIP 
COURSE  OF  CONSTRUCTION  AND  AS  SHE  LOOKED  COMPLETED 


128  In  the  Land  of  Make  Believe 

so  typical  of  certain  parts  of  France.  He  wanted  the  road  in  a 
hurry;  most  directors  want  the  most  unreasonable  kinds  of  sets 
in  a  hurry,  giving  the  scenery  hands  but  a  few  hours'  notice! 

Fortunately,  the  location  director  knew  of  a  straight  road  lined 
with  tall  telegraph  poles.  And  he  also  knew^  of  a  place  where 
stately  poplar  trees  could  be  obtained.  A  few  hours  later  there 
was  a  poplar  tree  lashed  to  every  telegraph  pole  on  that  road; 
and  from  the  camera's  point  of  view,  when  the  filming  took  place, 
there  was  no  sign  of  those  ugly  reminders  of  the  ubiquitous 
telegraph. 

Another  director  one  morning  discovered  that  his  scenario 
called  for  a  Southern  dirt  road  passing  by  a  corn  field.  The 
scene  was  to  be  ''shot"  that  afternoon.  He  so  notified  the  film 
artisans,  who,  despite  their  calm  demeanor,  were  in  this  instance 
quite  worried.  Where  were  they  to  find  a  dirt  road?  Where  a 
corn  field  in  this  part  of  California?  They  could  build  a  road,  to 
be  sure;  but  corn  could  not  be  faked  or  grown  in  a  few  hours' 
time. 

The  location  director  looked  up  his  records  and  discovered  a 
certain  corn  field  some  distance  away,  situated  on  a  concrete 
highway.  A  short  time  later  a  motor  truck  was  speeding  toward 
that  rare  thing — the  corn  field,  carrying  a  load  of  dirt  surmounted 
by  a  squad  of  laborers.  Arriving  at  the  corn  field,  fhe  laborers 
set  to  work  dumping  and  spreading  the  dirt  over  the  concrete 
highway  until  it  disappeared  under  a  perfectly  convincing  South- 
ern dirt  road.  Then  the  director  came  and  "shot"  the  scene; 
after  which  the  laborers  removed  the  dirt  and  restored  the  road 
to  its  former  status. 

Another  trick  of  the  camoufleurs  of  the  screen  was  to  convert 
a  farm  house  and  water  tower  into  a  Norman  castle.  Crowning 
the  top  of  a  hill,  these  homely  structures  stood  out  in  bold  sil- 
houette against  the  setting  sun.  By  the  addition  of  some  apple 
boxes  about  the  roof  and  water  tank,  and  some  canvas  to  hide 
the  skeleton  framework  of  the  tower,  an  excellent  silhouette  was 
obtained  of  a  medieval  castle. 

DECEIVING   THE   OTHERWISE   TRUTHFUL   CAMERA 

Were  the  motion-picture  camera  permitted  to  tell  everything 
concerning  motion-picture  settings,  there  would  be  no  such  thing 


pi  ^^BB 

1 

^ 

V""^ 

IN  ORDER  TO  USE  THIS  IMPOSING  RESIDENCE  FOR  THEIR  PICTURES,  THE 
FILM  FOLK  DID  SOME  LANDSCAPE  GARDENING  AS  SHOWN 


130  In  tlte  Land  of  Make  Believe 

118  convincing  backgrounds.  But  that's  just  it:  the  camera  is 
fooled ! 

A  multitude  of  sins  can  be  covered  over  with  a  little  smoke  or 
haze  when  making  a  picture.  For  instance,  in  many  a  battle 
scene  the  audience  perceives  the  action  through  a  heavy  haze 
which  if  anything  lends  a  real  martial  touch  to  the  picture;  when, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  director,  not  finding  all  the  details  quite 
up  to  the  mark,  ordered  yellow  smoke  pots  to  be  burned  so  as  to 
subdue  the  details.  Yellow  smoke  is  a  first-aid  remedy  in  filming 
some  sets,  especially  when  making  use  of  improvised  back- 
grounds; for  the  keen  eye  of  the  camera  is  then  sufficiently 
blurred  so  that  the  imagination  of  the  audience  must  supply  what 
is  lacking  in  the  way  of  details. 

Silhouette  photographs,  too,  are  a  great  aid  in  making  use  of 
improvised  backgrounds.  Whereas  the  entire  set  would  have 
to  be  properly  built  and  colored  if  the  usual  photograph  were 
made,  in  the  case  of  a  silhouette  only  the  outlines  count:  the 
mass  in  black  against  a  light  background  has  little  detail.  And 
what  is  more,  the  audience  generally  imagines  it  is  receiving  a 
genuine  treat  when  a  silhouette  is  included.  In  some  cases  it  is ; 
but  most  of  the  time  the  reason  is  utilitarian  rather  than  esthetic. 

After  all,  the  cameraman,  knowing  the  peculiarities  of  his 
camera,  can  be  of  big  help  to  the  sorely  tried  film  artisans. 

Essentially,  a  photoplay  is  a  picture;  and  all  pictures  require 
backgrounds.  Pretty  backgrounds  make  good  pictures.  Hence 
it  is  small  wonder  that  the  subject  of  sets  and  locations  enters 
so  extensively  in  the  production  of  films. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE  BIRTH-PLAGE  OF  THE 
MOTION  PICTURE 


T~\ECAUSE  motion  pictures  are  something  of  the 
r\  nature  of  art,  even  if  a  manufactured  product  in  a 
"^^^  business  sense,  they  are  produced  in  a  studio,  not  a 
factory.  A  queer  thing  indeed,  this  motion-picture 
studio.  It  is  a  meeting  place  for  the  artistic  and  the 
commercial;  the  temperamental  director  works  in  perfect 
harmony  with  the  hard-headed  producer  who  thinks  of  a 
photoplay  in  the  terms  of  production  costs  and  sales 
revenue.  Raw  fdm  enters  the  studio  and  is  subsequently 
converted  into  animated  fdm  which  brings  the  work  of 
many  players  to  theatres  far  and  wide.  Everything  is  at 
hand  in  the  studio  for  the  canning  of  dramas  and  comedies . 


132 The  Birth-Place  of  the  Motion  Picture 

BACK  in  the  early  days  of  motion  pictures  almost  anything 
served  as  a  studio.  What  is  claimed  to  have  been  the 
first  studio  in  America,  for  instance,  was  erected  by  the 
Edison  Company  in  1905.  It  was  a  roughly  constructed  building 
measuring  about  20  by  25  feet  and  covered  with  tar  paper.  It 
was  placed  on  a  revolving  stage  so  that  it  could  be  swung  around 
to  follow  the  sun;  and  it  was  also  mounted  on  a  truck  so  as  to 
be  transportable  from  place  to  place.  This  pioneer  studio  was 
familiarly  called  the  ''Black  Maria"  by  members  of  the  company. 

Then  there  was  the  early  Vitagraph  studio  on  the  roof  of  a 
New  York  office  building.  In  fair  weather  the  scenery,  painted 
by  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the  company,  was  hastily  assembled 
so  as  to  form  a  ''corner"  covered  by  the  field  of  the  camera,  while 
the  light  was  furnished  by  the  sun. 

Other  concerns  had  studios  little  more  elaborate.  Many  of 
them  had  platforms  standing  next  to  barns  or  tumbled-down 
buildings  that  served  as  a  storage  place  for  the  scenery  and  fur- 
nishings, and  as  a  shop  for  the  scene  painters,  a  laboratory  for 
the  cameraman,  an  office  for  the  producers,  and  dressing  rooms 
for  the  players. 

THE  STUDIO — A  PLACE  TO  KEEP  OUT  OF  THE  RAIN 

But  all  that  was  in  the  early  days  of  the  industry,  when  a  pro- 
ducer got  out  a  film  whenever  the  spirit  moved  him — and  when 
his  pocketbook  permitted.  There  were  no  release  dates  in  those 
days:  a  producer  could  issue  his  film  at  any  time,  knowing  full 
well  that  there  was  a  hungry  mob  of  motion-picture  theaters 
waiting  to  grab  his  film  and  grind  it  through  their  machines. 

So  the  early  producers  made  pictures  whenever  and  wherever 
they  pleased.  During  rainy  weather  or  when  the  light  was  poor, 
they  stopped  work;  and  when  they  were  blessed  with  beautiful 
weather  they  hurried  through  as  many  scenes  as  the  crudeness 
of  their  handiwork  permitted.  When  the  industry  issued  from 
its  infancy,  however,  and  became  a  robust  and  full-grown  and 
universally-recognized  business,  producers  soon  had  to  get  down 
to  a  schedule  basis.  Motion-picture  theaters,  dealing  through 
exchanges  or  film  brokers,  insisted  on  having  films  at  regular 
intervals;  and  rain  or  shine  the  film  producers  had  to  turn  out  a 
specified  number  of  films  each  week  or  each  month. 


134  The  Birth-Place  of  the  Motion  Picture 

To  keep  out  of  the  rain,  so  to  speak,  film  producers  built  them- 
selves special  structures  or  studios  in  which  to  carry  on  their 
work,  irrespective  of  the  weather.  These  structures  are  gen- 
erally of  steel  framework,  covered  on  all  sides  and  on  the  roof 
with  sheets  of  translucent  glass,  so  as  to  admit  the  maximum  dif- 
fused daylight.  In  fact,  the  average  studio  is  more  like  a  hot 
house  than  anything  else,  and  acre  after  acre  of  glass  surface  is 
represented  in  the  so-called  daylight  studios  of  many  a  motion- 
picture  colony. 

One's  first  visit  to  a  motion-picture  studio  is  almost  bound  to 
be  a  disappointment.  For  some  reason  or  another  one  expects 
to  find  a  comfortable  and  orderly  sort  of  a  place,  with  the  players 
alternately  lounging  about  and  acting  amid  comfortable  sur- 
roundings. But  to  the  horror  of  the  visitor  the  studio  is  a  rather 
cold  kind  of  a  place:  it  is  vast  in  area  and  the  ceiling  is  high;  the 
sets,  to  his  great  disappointment,  are  only  fronts,  and  end 
abruptly  in  crude  wooden  braces  and  ugly  lamp  stands  where 
the  vision  of  the  camera  ceases;  the  actors  hurry  through  their 
parts  and  then  sit  about  watching  the  director  go  through  an- 
other scene,  or  disappear  to  their  dressing  rooms;  the  sets  are 
arranged — or  rather  disarranged — any  which  way,  with  here 
and  there  and  everywhere  a  pile  of  discarded  scenery;  and,  lastly, 
huge  batteries  of  lamps  pour  out  a  ghastly  and  trying  light  on 
the  sets  and  players,  while  one  has  to  be  careful  not  to  stumble 
over  the  maze  of  electric  cables.  Indeed,  the  average  studio  is 
far  from  the  cozy  place  one  would  imagine  by  the  films. 

Yet  all  this  is  perfectly  correct.  After  all,  a  studio  has  but 
one  raison  d'etre,  and  that  is  to  produce  pictures.  Pictures,  on 
the  other  hand,  call  for  backgrounds  and  for  action,  and  if  those 
prerequisites  are  at  hand  all  is  well  with  the  producer. 

,  DAYLIGHT  AND   NEAR  DAYLIGHT 

The  glass  studio  affords  ideal  light  for  motion-picture  photog- 
raphy during  clear  weather,  for  the  daylight,  passing  through  the 
translucent  roof  and  sides,  is  so  diffused  as  to  eliminate  shadows 
and  produce  even  illumination.  In  order  to  control  this  hght 
curtains  are  arranged  along  the  sides  and  above  the  sets,  so  that 
any  degree  of  illumination  may  be  immediately  obtained. 

When    daylight    fails    him,    however,    the    producer    merely 


136  The  Birth-Place  of  the  Motion  Picture 

t^witches  on  as  many  electric  lights  as  may  be  required.  Indeed, 
the  greater  part  of  the  time  electric  lamps  are  employed  because 
of  the  ease  with  which  they  can  be  arranged  and  controlled  so  as 
to  produce  those  wonderful  lighting  effects  which  play  such  an 
important  part  in  present-day  photoplays. 

There  are  many  different  types  of  electric  lamps  in  use  to-day. 
Perhaps  the  earliest  type  of  all,  and  one  that  is  still  used  to  some 
extent,  is  the  arc  lamp,  which  gives  a  blue-white  light  of  great 
intensity.  Such  arc  lamps  are  arranged  in  batteries  of  five  or 
more  above  the  set,  and  in  batteries  of  five  or  ten  at  the  sides 
and  in  front.  The  pioneer  producers  troubled  themselves  very 
little  with  the  arrangement  of  the  lamps,  for  their  only  concern 
was  whether  there  was  sufficient  illumination  to  produce  a  prop- 
erly exposed  negative.  To-day,  however,  the  cameraman  and 
directors  are  most  particular  concerning  the  placing  of  the  lamps, 
for  the  illumination,  as  w^e  have  read  in  the  chapter  dealing  with 
actors,  has  much  to  do  with  the  beauty  or  ugliness  of  the  players. 
Lighting,  at  present,  is  an  important  phase  of  producing,  and 
every  day  the  directors  and  cameramen  are  learning  something 
new  along  this  line. 

The  arc  lamps  employ ea  are,  of  course,  self- feeding;  that  is  to 
say,  as  the  carbon  pencils  which  they  burn  become  shorter 
through  consumption,  they  are  fed  toward  each  other  in  order  to 
maintain  the  proper  gap.  So  from  the  time  the  arcs  are  switched 
on  until  they  are  shut  down,  they  require  no  attention  whatso- 
ever. But  the  flicker  of  the  arcs  is  at  times  troublesome,  as  is 
also  the  great  volume  of  heat  which  interferes  with  the  players. 

It  is  the  mercury-vapor  or  Cooper-Hewitt  lamp,  therefore,  that 
is  the  most  generally  employed  to-day.  This  lamp  is  the  familiar 
slender  tube  which  emits  a  greenish  or  bluish  light,  often  seen  in 
pubfic  buildings,  photographic  studios,  and  in  factories.  Why 
the  mercury-vapor  lamp  should  be  first  in  the  motion-picture 
field  is  simple  to  understand,  when  once  its  light  is  examined  with 
the  spectrum,  an  instrument  which  analyzes  the  various  colors 
contained  in  any  given  source  of  light.  It  is  a  fact  that  the  mer- 
cury-vapor gives  out  a  light  that  is  especially  rich  in  blues,  ultra- 
violet and  other  colors  rich  in  actinic  properties,  while  it  is  re- 
markably free  from  those  colors  approaching  the  red  end  of 
the  spectrum,  which  are  very  poor  photographic  rays.    All  in  all. 


THE    CEILING    AND    FLOOR    OF    A    MODERN    EASTERN    STUDIO,    SHOWING 
THE  LAMPS  ON  TROLLEYS   AND   THEIR  RELATION  TO   THE   SETS 


138  The  Birth-Placc  of  the  Motion  Picture 

then,  the  Cooper-Hewitt  Hght  of  a  given  strength  contains  the 
maximum  actinic  or  real  photographic  value,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  illumination  is  not  as  trying  on  the  eyes  of  the  players 
as  are  other  types.  Furthermore,  mercury-vapor  lamps  require 
little  attention,  and  there  is  nothing  that  can  get  out  of  attention. 
Mounted  in  batteries  these  tube  can  be  readily  shifted  about. 

Of  late  years  experiments  have  been  made  with  incandescent 
lamps  of  the  nitrogen-filled  tungsten-filament  type,  and  while 
these  lamps  are  good  for  motion-picture  work,  they  possess  no 
real  advantage  over  other  types  already  in  use.  In  order  to 
secure  the  maximum  actinic  light  with  the  minimum  glare,  blue- 
glass  bulbs  are  used,  giving  a  light  that  approximates  daylight. 
Again,  the  lamps  are  overloaded;  that  is  to  say,  the  voltage  is 
ten  volts  or  more  higher  than  it  should  be,  in  order  to  secure  a 
white-hot  filament  and  to  reduce  still  further  the  small  per- 
centage of  red  rays.  The  one  advantage  that  can  be  claimed 
for  incandescent  lamps  is  their  low  first  cost,  although  it  is  true 
that  their  installation  calls  for  the  least  amount  of  trouble,  as 
does  also  their  upkeep. 

No  matter  what  type  of  lamp  is  employed,  the  arrangement 
is  generally  the  same.  There  are  the  floor  stands,  carrying  a 
battery  of  lamps  and  provided  with  casters  so  that  they  can  be 
readily  moved  about  from  one  part  of  the  studio  to  another. 
Electrical  connections  are  made  by  means  of  heavily  insulated 
flexible  cable,  with  connecting  sockets  and  plugs  at  either  end. 
The  lamps  above  the  set  are  also  mounted  in  battery,  and  in  the 
more  modern  studios  are  arranged  on  a  sort  of  trolley  so  that 
they  can  be  moved  to  any  place  on  their  steel-girder  tracks. 

Vast  quantities  of  electricity  are  required  in  providing  illumi- 
nation for  the  average  set,  which  may  not  measure  more  than 
20  by  20  feet  in  area.  But  it  should  be  remembered  that  we  are 
dealing  with  instantaneous  photographs — snapshots — of  from 
l/25th  to  l/50th  second  exposure,  and  that  powerful  light  is 
necessary  for  this  purpose.  In  fact,  we  are  replacing  the  good 
old  sunshine,  and  it  is  only  when  we  try  to  replace  that  great 
source  of  light  that  we  appreciate  how  powerful  it  is.  To  be 
definite,  a  small  set  may  require  as  much  as  80  kilowatts  to 
illuminate  it,  depending  upon  the  size,  of  course,  and  the  color  of 
the  objects  and  scenery.    Needless  to  say,  motion-picture  studios 


THE    WONDERFUL     LIGHTING     EFFECTS     OF    THE     FILM     PICTURES     ARE 
OBTAINED    BY   LAMP   STANDS   SUCH    AS    THESE 


140  77ic  Birth-Placc  of  the  Motion  Picture 

are  the  very  best  customer  a  power  supply  company  can  hope  for. 
They  burn  up  current  by  the  wholesale,  as  it  were;  and  they  work 
during  daylight,  when  power  companies  have  the  least  call  for 
their  product  and  when  they  are  most  in  need  of  customers. 

A    MATTER   OF    FLOOR   SPACE 

The  various  directors  of  a  producing  company  work  inside  and 
outside,  as  explained  in  a  previous  chapter.  As  they  require  cer- 
tain interior  sets  they  give  their  orders  to  the  studio  hands  who 
erect  the  desired  sets  or  stages,  under  the  supervision  and  direc- 
tion of  the  art  or  technical  director,  if  the  organization  is  a  par- 
ticular one.  Once  the  set  is  ready,  the  director  proceeds  to  make 
full  use  of  it,  ''shooting"  all  the  scenes  calling  for  that  particular 
setting. 

Floor  space  is  at  a  premium  in  most  studios,  and  sets  must  be 
removed  as  soon  as  possible.  Usually  this  is  feasible,  but  there 
are  certain  productions  whose  preparation  extends  over  many 
months,  in  which  it  is  not  feasible  to  dismantle  the  sets  until  the 
films  are  completed.  In  one  instance  of  this  kind,  namely,  a 
famous  serial  film  of  the  mystery  variety,  the  final  episode  of 
which  was  to  be  suggested  by  the  public,  the  sets  were  left 
standing  for  the  better  part  of  the  year.  Now  the  producing 
studio,  w^hile  of  fair  capacity,  had  over  half  of  its  floor  space 
tied  up  with  these  sets;  yet  s6  important  was  it  to  the  director 
to  have  his  continuity  perfect  throughout  the  episodes  of  this 
serial  that  the  sets  w^re  left  standing. 

In  another  studio  the  matter  of  clearing  sets  is  considered  a 
paramount  one.  To  this  end  the  cameramen  are  provided  with 
individual  dark  rooms,  so  as  to  test  their  "takes."  As  soon  as  a 
scene  has  been  ''shot,"  the  cameraman  films  a  few  feet  of  negative 
over  the  required  amount,  which  he  cuts  in  the  dark  room  and 
develops.  If  tiie  photography  is  satisfactory,  the  director  orders 
the  set  dismantled.  In  this  manner  the  floor  of  the  studio,  big 
as  it  is,  is  never  cluttered  up  wdth  numerous  sets.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  would  not  be  safe  to  dismantle  a  set  before  the  negative 
was  developed  and  found  perfect. 

The  various  sets  in  a  studio  are  suggestive  of  small  stalls,  with 
here  and  there  an  occupied  one  where  a  director  and  his  as- 
sistants, together  with  a  cameraman,  are  putting  several  actors 


142  The  Birth-Place  of  the  Motion  Picture 

through  their  parts.  There  is  generally  litle  privacy,  for  elec- 
tricians and  carpenters  and  visitors  flock  about  the  front  or  cam- 
era end  of  the  set  and  watch  on.  The  heroine  may  be  acting  the 
role  of  the  child-wife  alone  with  her  brute  of  a  gambler-husband 
in  a  log  cabin  ten  thousand  miles  away  from  the  nearest  civilized 
post,  yet  ten  feet  away  her  spectators  are  watching  and  audibly 
commenting  on  her  work.  But  she  must  be  so  intent  on  her  work 
that  she  can  concentrate  and  act,  forgetting  about  her  motley 
audience. 

In  certain  studios,  however,  the  matter  of  privacy  has  been 
considered  carefully.  Instead  of  permitting  onlookers  to  stand 
about,  each  set  is  entirely  closed  in  by  a  folding  screen  about  the 
front  end,  shutting  off  the  players,  director  and  cameraman  from 
the  outside  world.  Again,  other  studios  either  do  not  permit 
visitors  in  their  premises,  or  provide  sight-seeing  balconies  from 
which  the  visitors  can  view  the  work  without  in  any  way  inter- 
fering with  the  personnel. 

CALIFORNIA    WEATHER   AND   DOLLARS   AND    CENTS 

The  first  producer  to  go  to  California  was  at  once  struck  with 
the  ideal  climatic  conditions  existing  there  for  motion-picture 
work.  He  soon  told  others,  and  one  by  one  film  producers  found 
their  way  to  southern  California  until  Los  Angeles  became  the 
Mecca  of  all  film  men.  To-day  that  city  is  the  center  of  the 
industry,  for  over  75  per  cent  of  the  domestic  films  are  produced 
in  and  about  Los  Angeles. 

California  weather  has  a  certain  dollars-and-cents  meaning 
to  the  film  producer.  For  it  is  a  fact  that  he  can  count  on  good 
weather  more  than  three  hundred  days  out  of  each  year,  and 
that  means  not  only  plenty  of  opportunity  for  outside  work,  but 
his  studio  need  consist  of  little  more  than  a  wooden  outdoor  stage 
with  a  few  light  diffusers.  Compared  to  the  Eastern  glass-en- 
closed studio  co&ting  tens  of  thousands  of  dollars,  the  California 
film  plant  is  an  inexpensive  proposition.  And  that  is  why  so 
many  producers  are  located  out  there. 

Still,  there  is  a  vast  field  of  usefulness  for  the  Middle- West  or 
Eastern  studios,  because  of  the  better  facilities  for  finishing  and 
distributing  the  films.  Much  time  is  saved  by  having  the  studios 
and  laboratories  close  at  hand.     Again,  by  using  the  Eastern 


to  o 
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w  o 


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O  H 
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CQ  M 

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144  The  Birth-place  of  the  Motion  Picture 


studios  in  the  summer  the  players  have  a  complete  change  of 
locale. 

The  workings  of  a  California  studio  are  practic^ally  the  same  as 
a  studio  in  the  East.  Of  course,  the  elaborate  electrical  equipment 
of  the  Eastern  studios  is  not  required  under  the  Western  skies 
under  normal  conditions.  The  sets  are  erected  in  the  open  on 
large  wooden  stages,  while  canvas  strips  travelling  on  beams 
under  the  pull  of  ropes  can  be  adjusted  to  diffuse  the  bright 
sunlight  falling  on  the  sets. 

Even  so,  California  studios  generally  have  a  small  glass-en- 
closed studio  for  use  in  adverse  weather,  rare  as  it  is.  Also,  in 
instances  where  a  film  must  be  completed  within  a  limited  time 
and  night  work  is  necessary,  the  glass-enclosed  studio  with  its 
batteries  of  lamps  is  employed. 

Practically  every  studio,  unless  it  is  situated  in  the  heart  of  a 
thickly  populated  city,  has  its  yard  or  extensive  grounds,  where 
certain  outdoor  sets  can  be  erected.  The  grounds  are  generally 
termed  the  '4ot,"  and  directors  and  players  arc  said  to  be  at 
work  "on  the  lot." 

The  stages,  while  the  most  conspicuous  part  of  [i  studio,  in 
reality  are  but  a  small  part  of  a  motion-picture  plant.  To  begin 
with,  there  are  the  rooms  where  are  kept  the  various  furnishings 
for  the  sets.  These  rooms,  known  as  the  property  rooms,  vary  in 
size  according  to  the  magnitude  of  the  producing  organization. 
The  average  large  studio  often  has  $25,000  worth  of  furniture  on 
hand,  not  to  speak  of  the  almost  endless  stock  of  bric-a-brac, 
frames,  draperies,  glasses,  bottles,  curtains,  and  so  on. 

Little  by  little  real  system  is  finding  its  way  into  the  motion- 
picture  industry.  The  small  studios  of  ten  years  ago  were 
thought  by  their  operators  to  be  efficiently  run.  In  those  days 
they  went  out  and  bought  such  furniture  as  they  needed  for  a 
picture  setting,  and  used  the  same  furniture  as  often  as  they 
could.  Five  years  ago  the  producers  again  bought  furniture  for  a 
set,  but  when  it  was  stored  away  in  the  property  room  it  stayed 
there  as  often  as  not  for  a  mighty  long  time.  And  the  sole  reason 
was  that  no  one  knew  just  what  was  in  the  property  room  save 
the  property  man,  and  he  didn't  bother  to  tell  the  directors  w^hat 
was  available  unless  they  took  particular  pains  to  ask  him. 

To-day  things  are  being  run   far  more  systematically.     The 


THERE  IS  NO  END  TO  THE  COLLECTION  OF  THE  PROPERTY  MAN.     YEAR 
AFTER   YEAR   HIS   "PROPS"   BECOME   MORE   NUMEROUS 


146  The  Birth-Place  of  the  Motion  Picture 

more  modern  studios  have  every  piece  of  property  carefully 
photographed  and  indexed.  The  director  or  art  director,  when 
planning  a  scene,  orders  liis  property  by  number.  Such  items  as 
vases,  for  instance,  are  all  photographed  in  groups  and  each  piece 
is  numbered.  Thus  the  director  asks  for  vase  No.  16,  pictures 
Nos.  534,  682,  4  and  16,  table  No.  82-A,  couch  No.  43-C,  Victrola 
No.  3-V,  and  so  on. 

That,  in  brief,  is  system.  It  is  fast  invading  every  studio,  for 
the  day  has  come  when  film  producing  no  longer  can  be  carried 
on  in  a  haphazard  manner  and  still  make  a  profit  for  the  pro- 
ducer. Leaks  must  be  stopped,  because  stern  competition  has 
made  the  motion-picture  business  a  matter  of  dollars  and  cents, 
the  same  as  any  other  legitimate  industry. 

A    SHOP    WHERE    NOTHING    IS   IMPOSSIBLE 

Then  there  is  the  workshop  of  the  studio,  where  special  prop- 
erty is  constructed.  Here  toil  perhaps  the  most  clever  and  in- 
genious artisans  in  the  world,  for  no  matter  what  may  be  asked 
of  them  they  never  fail  to  make  good.  Thus  the  director  may 
call  for  a  section  of  a  sewer,  a  dummy  automobile,  a  Roman 
chariot,  or  a  model  battlefield,  to  be  ready  the  next  morning  at 
nine  o'clock.  And  at  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning  it  is  ready  for 
him.  Indeed,  the  film  artisans,  of  whom  the  author  has  had 
much  to  say  in  a  preceding  chapter,  know  absolutely  nothing  of 
the  word  ''can't." 

Generally  the  film  artisans  are  under  the  supervision  of  an 
old-time  theatrical  set  builder,  for  to  conceive  and  execute  the 
multitudinous  and  diversified  sets  of  a  motion-picture  studio  calls 
for  the  greatest  of  ability  and  experience  in  stage  effects.  Orders 
come  to  the  property  man  in  all  sorts  of  shapes,  varying  from  ten 
words  of  a  leading  director  to  the  elaborate  drawings  and  sketches 
of  the  art  director.  In  the  case  of  elaborate  scenes  where  a  great 
deal  of  money  has  to  be  spent,  the  set  is  generally  worked  out 
in  cardboard  for  the  study  and  approval  of  the  art  director,  after 
which  it  is  executed  full  size.  At  times  the  work  of  the  artisans 
is  in  miniature,  such  as  a  model  of  the  French  city  of  Orleans 
with  two  thousand  miniature  soldiers  of  Joan  of  4rc  walking  in 
on  invisible  webbing  running  on  rollers — a  model  so  cleverly  made 
that  no  one  would  suspect  it  to  be  anything  but  genuine  when 


FROM     MODEL     BATTLESHIPS     TO     DUMMIES     AND     AGAIN     TO     PLASTER 
STATUES   EXTENDS   THE   WORK   OF   THE    FILM   ARTISANS 


148  The  Birth-Place  of  the  Motion  Picture 

flashed  on  the  screen,  although  it  so  happened  that  the  film  story 
of  Joan  of  Arc  did  not  require  this  scene.  At  other  times  the 
work  is  outdoor  and  on  a  vast  scale,  such  as  the  erection  of  a 
village  at  a  cost  of  tens  of  thousands  of  dollars. 

Plaster  is  one  of  the  favorite  methods  of  the  film  artisans — or 
shall  we  call  them  camoufleurs?  For  they  seem  to  be  able  to  do 
almost  anything  with  plaster  of  paris.  One  reason  why  this 
material  is  so  largely  used  is  the  ease  with  which  a  large  number 
of  duplicate  parts  may  be  turned  out.  Supposing,  for  instance, 
that  an  Egyptian  temple  is  to  be  constructed,  calling  for  a  large 
number  of  huge  stones.  The  camoufleurs  set  to  work  making  a 
wooden  mould  for  the  facing  of  the  "stone,"  and  when  this  is 
made  they  are  ready  to  turn  out  the  plaques  in  large  numbers. 
The  plaster,  in  liquid  state,  is  first  poured  into  the  mould,  after 
which  shredded  fiber  or  hairy  consistency  is  placed  on  the  liquid 
mass  and  gently  pressed  in.  More  plaster  is  poured  over  this, 
and  after  allowing  the  mass  to  harden  for  half  an  hour,  the 
plaque  may  be  removed  and  allowed  to  dry  out  thoroughly  in 
the  sun. 

There  are  other  ways  of  making  moulds,  especially  in  the  case 
of  complicated  designs,  such  as  ornamental  corner  posts,  column 
tops,  and  so  on.  The  design  is  first  worked  up  in  clay,  after 
which  the  model  is  enclosed  in  a  plaster  casing  so  as  to  form  a 
mould.  Melted  glue  or  gelatin  is  then  poured  in  between  the 
model  and  the  plaster  casing.  When  hardened  to  a  rubbery  con- 
sistency, the  glue  mould  is  carefully  stripped  from  the  clay  model 
and  then  used  for  casting  as  many  plaster  replicas  as  may  be 
desired. 

Sometimes  the  artisans  work  directly  in  plaster  with  sculptor's 
tools,  producing  all  manner  of  beautiful  work.  Obviously,  all  their 
efforts  are  doomed  to  be  temporary,  for  plaster  at  best  is  but  a 
passing  material.  But  as  soon  as  their  work  has  appeared  in  the 
sets  for  which  it  was  intended,  its  raison  d'etre  has  been  realized. 
It  is  then  doomed  to  destruction,  either  immediately  by  the 
makers  themselves  or  in  the  course  of  a  short  time  by  the  ele- 
ments. 

Scene  painting  is  part  of  the  work  of  the  film  camoufleurs.  Most 
studios  set  aside  a  small  section  of  the  studio  for  the  scene  paint- 
ers.   This  section,  or  slice,  to  use  a  better  term,  is  often  a  room 


o 

O 


150  The  Birth-Place  of  the  Motion  Picture 

measuring  five  feet  wide  by  one  Imndrcd  feet  long  and  twenty  or 
more  feet  in  height.  The  scenery,  in  the  form  of  canvas  nailed  on 
wooden  framework,  is  mounted  on  a  carrier  which  may  be  raised 
or  lowered  through  a  slot  in  the  floor;  in  this  manner  the  scene 
painters,  while  remaining  on  the  floor,  can  reach  any  part  of  the 
huge  canvas  by  raising  or  lowering  the  scenery. 

Aside  from  the  scene  room,  huge  storage  space  is  required  for 
the  storing  of  the  scenery.  It  often  happens  that  the  same  scenery 
can  be  employed  again,  or,  in  the  case  of  a  serial  film,  the  same 
scenery  is  called  for  some  months  later.  So  hundreds  of  old 
sceneries  are  to  be  found  stored  away  in  some  out-of-the-way 
corner  of  the  studio. 

To  those  not  familiar  with  studio  activities  it  may  be  of  interest 
to  know  something  of  the  quantities  of  materials  used  in  the 
course  of  one  year.  Earlier  in  this  book  such  a  list  was  given,  but 
only  for  a  few  of  the  more  common  materials.  Here  is  another 
list,  applying  to  fifty-two  pictures  produced  by  a  leading  or- 
ganization: 1,500,000  feet  of  lumber,  12,000,000  nails,  100,000 
screws,  5,000  locks,  hinges  and  door  knobs,  75,000  feet  of  wall 
paper,  1,500  gallons  of  paint,  over  100,000  pieces  of  furniture, 
and  300,000  props.  There  was  consumed  in  lighting  these  sets 
1,000,000  amperes  of  current,  also  1,500,000  feet  of  film  and  a 
countless  number  of  horses,  cows,  sheep,  goats,  birds,  goldfish, 
dogs  and  oxen  were  employed.  As  for  bears,  snakes,  racoons, 
lions  and  elephants,  the  number  of  these  animals  used  would  equip 
the  Barnum  and  Bailey  circus  several  times  over. 

In  the  matter  of  interior  scenery,  system  is  again  encountered. 
Only  a  few  years  ago  directors  called  for  elaborate  wall  paper 
which  they  selected  from  the  catalogue  of  some  expensive  wall- 
paper manufacturer.  Perhaps  the  paper  would  cost  $1.00  a  yard, 
yet  when  it  came  to  be  filmed  the  results  were  miserable,  because 
the  design  or  color  scheme  did  not  lend  itself  to  being  photo- 
graphed. 

But  all  this  has  changed  in  the  more  progressive  studios.  Per- 
haps not  more  than  a  dozen  wall  paper  designs  have  been  chosen 
after  careful  photographic  trials,  and  these  are  photographed 
again  and  indexed  and  cards  so  that  a  director  can  get  just  what 
he  desires,  knowing  at  a  glance  just  how  the  wall  paper  will 
appear  in  his  film  scene.    There  is  no  ground  for  disappointment 


ELECTRICIANS  AND  CARPENTERS  PLAY  A  LARGE  PART  IN  ALL  PHOTO- 
PLAY PRODUCTION 


Ii32  The  Birth-Place  of  the  Motion  Picture 

later.     And  the  wall  paper  may  cost  15  cents  a  roll  instead  of 
$1.00  as  before! 

WHERE   CELLULOID   STRIP   IS   ANIMATED 

So  far  this  description  has  only  taken  us  through  those  depart- 
ments directly  connected  with  the  staging  of  the  films.  There 
still  remain  the  dressing  rooms  for  the  players,  which  vary 
from  the  spacious  and  elaborate  dressing  rooms  for  the  stars  to 
the  small  rooms  of  the  ^'extras."  But  in  almost  every  studio 
worthy  of  the  name  there  are  all  kinds  of  accommodations  for  the 
players,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  such  as  baths,  showers, 
electric  light,  hot  and  cold  water,  and  proper  dressing  quarters. 
For  the  film  producer,  like  any  other  business  man,  long  ago  came 
to  realize  the  fact  that  the  players  are  his  mainstay:  he  cannot 
get  along  without  them,  and  to  treat  them  right  is  to  secure  the 
best  results. 

Practically  every  studio  of  any  size  has  its  own  developing 
and  printing  departments,  unless  it  is  but  a  branch  or  an  isolated 
company  of  players  far  removed  from  the  parent  organization, 
when  the  film  is  generally  developed  on  the  grounds,  projected, 
and  if  found  satisfactory  shipped  to  the  home  laboratory  for 
printing.  In  this  manner  the  director  can  tell  whether  his  work 
is  satisfactory  before  proceeding  with  the  other  work  in  hand. 

So  much  for  the  regular  run  of  studios.  But  there  is  one  city 
in  the  world  which  is  entirely  devoted  to  the  producing  of  motion 
pictures — a  city  of  15,000  souls  and  extending  over  some  800 
acres.  It  is  the  only  one  of  its  kind  in  the  world,  yet  it  has  no 
characteristics  since  it  can  turn  into  Rome,  Athens,  Petrograd, 
Paris,  Madrid,  Cairo,  New  York,  or  any  other  city  over  night. 
In  brief,  it  is  but  a  collection  of  backgrounds. 

A   CHAMELEON    CITY — THE   BACKGROUND   METROPOLIS 

A  short  trolley  ride  out  of  Los  Angeles  brings  one  to  the  gates 
of  a  motion-picture  city,  or  call  it  chameleon  city,  if  you  please. 
It  is  located  in  the  beautiful  San  Fernando  Valley  of  southern 
California  with  every  cHmatic  advantage  a  director  could  wish 
for.  Indeed,  within  an  hour's  ride  the  director  has  the  entire 
range  of  climates  from  the  tropical  to  the  temperate  and  then  to 
the  arctic.    The  latter,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  is  to  be  found  on 


INTERIOR   SCENES    CAN   READILY   BE   MADE   BY   THE   COMPANIES   OUT   IN 
THE  FIELD,  WITHOUT  A   CONVENTIONAL   STUDIO 


154  The  BirtJi-Place  of  the  Motion  Picture 

top  of  lofty  Mount  Lowe,  which  is  readily  accessible  by  trolley 
car. 

But  the  main  object  of  this  motion-picture  city  has  been  to 
keep  the  directors  on  the  ''lot";  that  is  to  say,  almost  every  kind 
of  background  is  at  hand  in  the  studio  grounds.  To  that  end 
every  building  has  been  designed  with  a  four-  or  five-fold  useful- 
ness in  mind.  Every  side  is  of  a  different  type  of  architecture 
and  usually  represents  a  different  kind  of  usefulness.  For  in- 
stance, a  shelter  designed  primarily  for  a  saddlery  shop  and  a 
blacksmithy  has  a  front  elevation  that  is  in  keeping  with  the 
nature  of  the  building.  From  the  other  three  angles,  however,  it 
has  the  appearance  of  a  Gothic  hunting  lodge,  military  barracks, 
and  a  Wild  West  ranch  house.  In  addition  to  this,  any  one  of 
these  front  elevations  can  be  changed  over  night  to  represent  an 
entirely  different  kind  and  character  of  building.  And  the  same 
idea  has  been  carried  out  throughout  the  city. 

There  are  numerous  waterways  through  the  grounds,  including 
a  large  lake;  and  where  the  natural  ones  have  not  proved  of 
sufficient  pictorial  value,  others  have  been  constructed  by  the 
film  camoufleurs  for  the  convenience  of  directors  and  cameramen. 
The  bridges  which  cross  the  waterways  are,  following  the  general 
rule  of  the  city,  convertible.  That  is  to  say,  any  bridge  at  short 
notice  can  be  converted  into  any  type  of  bridge  that  may  be 
desired  by  the  director,  whether  it  be  a  high-arched  Japanese 
bridge,  a  steel  bridge,  a  wooden  bridge,  or  a  Venetian  bridge. 
Again  the  same  thing  applies  to  the  numerous  roads  leading 
through  the  grounds,  hardly  two  of  which  are  alike,  for  they  run 
the  entire  gamut  from  plain  dirt  roads  to  high  grade  macadam- 
ized roads,  so  as  to  offer  any  kind  of  background  sought  by  the 
director.  The  main  boulevard  through  the  grounds  is  over  six 
miles  in  length.  -'■ 

Some  idea  of  the  magnitude  of  this  wonderful  motion-picture 
city  is  obtained  from  the  water  system.  Every  building  is  sup- 
plied with  water  99  per  cent  pure,  fed  to  a  reservoir  from  seven 
artesian  wells  at  the  rate  of  300,000  gallons  a  day. 

There  are  two  distinctive  sections  of  Chameleon  City:  the 
ranch  section,  which  was  the  first  to  be  completed,  and  the  city 
section.  In  the  main  the  ranch  section  is  used  in  the  making  of 
Western  life,  Indian  subjects  and  other  photoplays  that  require 


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156  The  Birth-place  of  tlic  Motion  Picture 


rugged  backgrounds.  On  the  other  hand,  the  city  section  is  em- 
ployed in  producing  pictures  that  require  special  and  elaborate 
backgrounds. 

The  main  feature  of  the  city  section  is  no  doubt  the  enormous 
outdoor  stage  which  is  built  entirely  of  reinforced  concrete  and 
steel  framework.  It  covers  a  ground  space  of  156  feet  by  320 
feet.  The  concrete  of  the  floor  is  six  inches  in  thickness,  as  are 
likewise  the  walls  of  the  buildings  adjoining  it.  At  the  rear  of 
the  stage  are  the  dressing  rooms,  directors'  offices,  toilets  and 
shower  baths.  Hot  and  cold  water,  electricity  and  all  other 
modern  conveniences  are  features  of  the  stage.  In  the  space  for 
acting  there  are  three  pits,  twelve  feet  deep,  which  are  intended 
for  water  and  basement  pictures.  The  stage  has  two  scene  docks 
50  by  120  feet,  the  roofs  of  which  are  used  to  house  the  light 
diffusers  which  move  on  steel  girders  above  the  stage.  The  acting 
space  measures  65  by  320  feet,  and  can  accommodate  upwards 
of  ten  sets  at  one  time,  depending  on  their  size. 

The  principal  building  in  the  new  section  of  the  city  is  the  ad- 
ministration building,  which  contains  the  manager's  office,  di- 
rectors' offices,  reception  hall,  bank,  business  office,  telephone  and 
telegraph  booths,  and  literary  rooms,  while  above  the  center  of 
the  main  floor  is  the  observation  tower  from  which  the  manager 
may  see  all  sections  of  the  ranch. 

The  carpenter  shop  is  directly  to  the  left  of  the  administration 
building,  where  all  of  the  accessories  needed  by  the  motion-picture 
city  are  made.  In  this  building  are  also  located  the  plumbing 
shop,  electricians'  quarters,  drafting  rooms,  dark  rooms  and 
camera  rooms.  The  restaurant  and  refreshment  stand  are  located 
at  the  right  of  the  administration  building,  and  there  is  also  an 
open  air  and  closed  cafe  close  at  hand. 

The  production  of  thrilling  motion-picture  dramas  often  results 
in  accidents,  for  that  is  the  price  of  reafism  at  times.  So  there  is 
provision  made  in  this  bizarre  community  for  the  unavoidable 
injuries  to  actors,  in  the  form  of  a  well-equipped  hospital  which 
has  a  trained  nurse  and  doctor  always  in  attendance.  There  are 
two  wards  available,  one  for  the  women  and  one  for  the  men, 
each  having  two  beds. 

Near  the  hospital  in  one  of  the  canyons  is  a  Roman  theater 
and  a  stadium,  having  a  seating  capacity  of  about  1,400  people. 


158  The  Birth-Placc  of  the  Motion  Picture 

The  grounds  before  and  behind  tlie  buildings  arc  hiid  out  in 
lawns,  there  being  a  Roman  bath  with  pool  and  fountain.  There 
is  also  a  building  measuring  50  by  200  feet,  known  as  the  electric 
studio,  where  pictures  may  be  made  during  rainy  weather  and 
at  night,  with  artificial  illumination  as  in  the  Eastern  studios. 

The  ranch  or  Wild  West  section  also  has  its  stage,  behind  which 
are  dozens  of  dressing  rooms  and  property  rooms.  Farther  on 
is  a  fully  equipped  carpenter  shop  and  a  scenery  department. 
But  the  main  feature  of  this  section  is  the  large  zoo,  containing 
a  large  number  of  animals.  At  the  time  this  is  being  written  the 
zoo  contains  twenty  camels,  two  elephants,  several  lions,  seals, 
tigers,  leopards,  snakes,  bears,  wolves,  and  so  on,  all  available 
for  "animal  stuff." 

Other  features  of  the  ranch  are  the  blacksmith  shop  and-  the 
arsenal.  The  latter  contains  large  stocks  of  firearms  of  all  sorts, 
to  meet  the  requirements  of  almost  any  scenario.  There  is  also 
a  corral  containing  over  one  hundred  fine  horses.  Bunk  houses, 
clubs  and  other  structures  conclude  the  list  of  interesting  points 
worth  visiting  if  a  person  chances  to  pass  through  this  community. 

IN    THE   GOLDEN    WEST 

While  the  community  just  described  is  perhaps  the  largest 
institution  of  its  kind  in  the  world,  other  California  studios  are 
very  much  along  the  same  general  lines,  even  if  they  do  not  com- 
pare with  it  in  magnitude.  Thus  other  producers  have,  large 
yards  or  '4ots"  where  they  can  stage  outdoor  scenes,  and  the 
staging  accommodations  are  almost  unlimited,  thanks  to  the 
outdoor  stages.  At  least  one  other  producer  maintains  a  very 
fine  zoo,  and  well  does  he  make  use  of  it  in  speciaHzing  rather 
heavily  on  "animal  stuff"  in  his  thrillers. 

In  the  East,  where  property  is  in  general  far  more  expensive 
to  acquire,  studios  do  not  have  very  large  yards,  hence  their 
activities  on  the  "lot"  must  necessarily  be  hmited.  One  studio, 
however^  in  the  vicinity  of  New  York  has  a  fair  sized  yard  which 
includes  a  pool,  good  use  of  which  is  made  in  many  of  the  pic- 
tures coming  from  that  plant.  But  the  large  yard  is  strictly  a 
Western  characteristic,  as  is  also  the  outdoor  stage. 

With  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  represented  in  many  of 
the  studios  of  the  leading  producers,  it  is  seldom  that  the  directors 


160  The  Birth-Place  of  the  Motion  Picture 

are  unprepared  to  handle  any  given  scenario.  For  the  scenario 
writer  may  call  for  a  street  scene  in  Shanghai,  a  naval  battle,  or  a 
charge  in  No  Man's  Land,  and  the  director  will  go  ahead  and  pro- 
duce it;  that  is,  provided  always  that  the  story  is  worth  the 
expense  and  the  trouble  involved.  Such  is  the  scope  of  the  mod- 
ern motion-picture  studio. 


CHAPTER   VIII, 


THE  GENERALS  OF  SHADOWLANI) 


JLL  THE  WORLD  is  the  stage  of  the  photoplay  pro- 
/-M  ducer.  He  can  think  big  things^  and  yet  still  bigger 
things  are  always  possible  of  execution.  -For  the 
motion  picture  has  all  outdoors  for  a  stage,  and  thousands 
upon  thousands  of  players  can  be  used  in  a  single  scene  if 
the  production  is  worth  the  expenses  involved.  Mechan- 
ically, there  is  no  limit  to  the  size  of  the  photoplay  stage, 
save,  that  if  the  dimensions  are  forever  expanded  a  time 
comes  when  the  players  are  of  microscopic  proportions 
when  shown  on  the  screen.  So  it  is  not  surprising  to  find 
photoplays  in  which  hundreds  or  thousands  of  actors 
appear  in  certain  scenes.  The  handling  of  this  class  of 
film,  or  ''mob  stuff"  in  the  parlance  of  the  profession,  finds 
the  director  at  his  very  best. 


162  The  Generals  of  Shadowland 

WITH  all  outdoors  for  its  stage  and  with  Nature  as  the 
scene  painter,  the  motion  picture  will  always  possess  a 
tremendous  advantage  over  the  legitimate  drama  which 
must  necessarily  confine  even  its  most  grandiose  efforts  to  a  com- 
paratively small  stage  and  artificial  scenery.  Yet  it  would  not 
be  true  to  claim  every  advantage  for  the  motion  picture;  indeed, 
its  disadvantages  are  often  evident  and  at  times  troublesome, 
although  constant  improvement  has  done  much  to  eliminate  the 
better  part  of  them.  Nor  would  it  be  true  to  claim  that  the  nat- 
ural scenery  and  the  unlimited  stage  facilities  have  played  a 
most  important  role  in  making  the  shadow-play  what  it  is;  for 
quite  apart  from  these  features  the  present  photoplay  could  still 
hold  its  own. 

Nevertheless,  the  stirring  scenes  of  thousands  of  soldiers  en- 
gaged in  realistic  battle;  of  thousands  of  strikers  menacing  an 
industrial  plant;  of  thousands  of  men,  women  and  children  march- 
ing to  the  palace  of  a  despotic  emperor  to  demand  his  abdication ; 
of  thousands  of  people  fleeing  from  the  oncoming  streams  of 
molten  lava  pouring  down  from  a  volcano  in  full  eruption — all 
these  belong,  and  are  only  possible,  in  the  realm  of  shadowland. 
Realizing  this  fact  full  well,  the  motion-picture  director  works 
largely  in  the  open;  and  when  a  story  justifies  the  expense  and 
trouble,  he  does  not  hesitate  to  gather  an  army  of  players  and 
make  use  of  a  natural  stage  whose  dimensions  are  measured 
neither  in  feet  nor  yards  but  in  miles. 

Big  scenes  are  rather  the  exception  in  motion  pictures  because 
of  their  expense.  Nevertheless,  it  is  becoming  increasingly  com- 
mon to  employ  big  scenes  even  in  the  regular  run  of  feature 
productions;  and  in  many  instances  the  photoplay  is  produced 
around  the  big  outdoor  scenes  in  which  many  people  appear. 

SELECTING   AND   PREPARING   THE   OUTDOOR   STAGE 

A  motion-picture  director  does  not  build  or  paint  his  outdoor 
scenery :  he  selects  it.  As  has  previously  been  stated  in  this  book, 
not  so  long  ago  the  director  personally  attended  to  the  selection 
of  outdoor  sites  or  "locations,"  usually  employing  a  fast  auto- 
mobile for  the  purpose  of  scouring  the  country  for  many  miles 
about  the  studio.  But  with  the  advent  of  efficiency  methods  in 
the  industry  there  has  come  a  new  order  of  things:  the  present 


164  The  Generals  of  Shadowland 

tendency  is  to  break  up  the  work  into  different  and  distinct 
classes  or  departments,  each  of  which  is  handled  by  a  specialist. 

In  a  large  producing  organization  the  director  generally  leaves 
the  matter  of  locations  to  the  location  director  who  has  data  and 
other  facilities  for  finding  a  suitable  background  for  the  big  scene. 

Once  the  location  is  settled  upon,  the  outdoor  stage  must  be 
more  or  less  prepared  before  the  actors  are  brought  out,  for  with 
a  few  hundred  or  a  few  thousand  players  getting  anywhere  from 
two  to  five  dollars  a  day  it  is  quite  an  easy  matter  to  waste  hun- 
dreds and  even  thousands  of  dollars  in  useless  delays.  Sometimes 
it  is  necessary  to  build  elaborate  structures,  such  as  entire  vil- 
lages or  fortresses  or  public  buildings,  as  the  case  may  be,  and 
anywhere  from  a  few  weeks  to  a  year  may  be  spent  in  the  erec- 
tion of  such  sets.  Battlefields,  on  the  other  hand,  also  require 
considerable  time  for  the  preparation  of  the  terrain,  especially 
if  modern  warfare  is  to  be  depicted  with  its  trenches  and  dugouts 
and  barbed  wire  belts. 

Now  the  preparation  of  the  terrain  is  only  a  part  of  the  work, 
for  there  still  remain  the  construction  and  concealment  or  camou- 
flaging of  camera  platforms  and  directing  stations,  so  that  the 
action  may  be  directed  and  photographed  simultaneously  from  a 
number  of  different  points.  Also,  if  the  scene  is  quite  extensive, 
a  telephone  system  must  be  installed,  connecting  with  the  various 
parts  of  the  outdoor  stage.  In  order  that  the  action  of  various 
groups  of  actors  may  be  synchronized  and  at  all  times  remain  un- 
der control  of  the  head  director,  a  telephone  system  joins  up 
assistant  directors  and  cameramen  scattered  about  in  concealed 
posts,  with  the  director  and  his  own  cameramen  atop  the  lofty 
platform  at  one  end  of  the  landscape.  For  it  is  a  fact  that  the 
telephone  is  practically  indispensable  in  handling  mob  scenes 
scattered  over  a  wide  territory,  although  other  systems  of  issuing 
orders  are  feasible  and  are  frequently  employed  by  some  direc- 
tors, as  we  shall  learn  presently. 

Still  another  feature  of  the  preparations  is  the  planting  of  mines 
to  simulate  bursting  shells  and  land  mines  in  the  case  of  modern 
battle  scenes.  Some  companies  employ  a  specialist  for  this  end 
of  the  undertaking — a  man  who  has  had  wide  experience  in  the 
handling  of  explosives  and  pyrotechnics.  Following  the  general 
instructions  of  the  director,  this  man  plants  his  mines  at  specified 


166  The  Generals  of  Shadowland 

points,  and  places  an  inconspicuous  stake  above  each  mine,  finally 
making  a  chart  of  the  arrangement  for  reference  purposes.  The 
mines  are  electrically  fired  during  the  filming  of  the  production, 
which  calls  for  considerable  concealed  wiring  and  some  sort  of 
firing  station. 

And  when  all  preparations  have  been  completed,  the  army  of 
players  and  cameramen  and  directing  staff  arrive  bright  and  early 
one  day  to  film  the  big  scenes.  They  come  in  all  sorts  of 
vehicles,  ranging  from  big  motor  buses  capable  of  carrying  a 
dozen  or  two  of  the  "extras"  to  the  stream-lined  racing  car  of  the 
leading  lady.  If  the  director  knows  his  business,  and  it  is  pre- 
sumed that  he  must  when  his  organization  entrusts  the  production 
of  a  big  scene  to  him,  he  has  already  instructed  his  players  as  to 
the  work  to  be  done  so  that  they  quickly  take  their  places  and 
soon  the  action  is  in  full  swing. 

THE  HEADQUARTERS  OF  THE  REAL  COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF 

Perched  on  top  of  a  wooden  structure  which  towers  high  above 
the  outdoor  stage,  the  director  and  his  entourage  usually  enjoy 
an  unobstructed  view  of  the  landscape  and  players.  Depending 
upon  the  magnitude  of  the  production,  there  are  under  his  im- 
mediate command  two  or  more  cameramen  with  their  cameras, 
and  a  number  of  assistant  directors  or  lieutenants  stationed  not 
only  on  the  elevated  platform  but  also  scattered  about  the  field 
at  various  vantage  points.  The  handling  of  so  many  people  can- 
not be  undertaken  by  one  man  alone,  especially  when  it  is  recalled 
that  the  bulk  of  the  players  are  ''extras"  or  unskilled  actors;  so 
the  practice  is  to  assign  the  assistant  directors  to  various  groups 
of  players  who,  while  immediately  under  the  direction  of  these 
lieutenants,  are  really  under  the  general  direction  of  the  director- 
in-chief. 

In  issuing  orders  to  nearby  groups  of  players,  such  as  in  close- 
up  scenes  in  the  fore  part  of  the  field,  the  director  and  his  as- 
sistants employ  megaphones;  but  in  handhng  actors  a  few  hun- 
dred feet  away  this  means  becomes  totally  inadequate.  It  is 
then  that  the  telephone  system  comes  into  play,  and  messages 
of  instruction  to  the  men  at  various  telephone  posts  are  trans- 
mitted to  the  players  through  megaphones  by  the  assistant  direc- 
tors.   But  the  telephone  is  not  always  employed ;  in  some  cases  a 


168  The  Generals  of  Shadowland 

system  of  wig-wagging  is  used,  and  it  has  to  recommend  it  the 
fact  that  the  players  themselves  can  read  simple  signals  if  neces- 
sary. 

The  main  battery  of  cameras  is  usually  stationed  near  the 
director  so  as  to  obtain  a  clear  sweep  of  the  stage,  but  at  various 
points  hidden  cameras  are  lying  in  wait  to  film  glimpses  of  the 
action  or  what  might  be  termed  details.  In  the  storming  of  a 
medieval  fortress,  for  instance,  a  battery  of  cameras  is  employed 
to  film  the  entire  scene,  while  a  hidden  camera  may  be  used  to 
record  the  struggle  in  the  moat,  another  for  the  fighting  on  the 
parapet,  and  still  another  for  the  struggle  at  the  portcullis.  True, 
these  scenes  might  be  taken  by  the  same  cameraman,  one  after 
another,  but  the  players  would  then  have  to  be  engaged  for  a 
longer  period  with  proportionately  greater  expense;  and  what  is 
more,  the  various  bits  of  action  would  not  interlock  to  the  nicety 
that  is  realized  with  the  multiple  camera  method  now  practiced. 
And  ''continuity,"  as  has  already  been  brought  out  in  a  preceding 
chapter,  is  the  bete  noir  of  all  productions. 

In  no  small  degree  the  skill  of  a  director  is  shown  by  his  ability 
to  issue  orders  to  the  various  cameramen,  who  ''shoot"  or  "cut," 
filming  and  resting,  as  directed  over  the  series-connected  tele- 
phone system.  "Camera  three,  shoot,"  starts  said  cameraman 
filming  the  bit  of  action  immediately  in  front  of  his  camouflaged 
post,  and  a  few  moments  later  the  message  "Camera  three,  stop," 
brings  the  cranking  to  a  halt.  Of  course,  the  telephones  being 
connected  in  series,  so  as  to  save  the  additional  work  of  installing 
a  switchboard,  causes  every  message  to  be  heard  by  all  the  men 
connected  in  on  the  line,  so  that  numbers  are  given  to  designate 
the  men  for  whom  the  instructions  are  intended. 

HOW   THE  BIG   SCENE   CAME   INTO  ITS   OWN 

One  of  the  earlier  American  productions  on  a  large  scale  was 
produced  in  Cahfornia  some  four  years  ago  under  the  direction 
of  our  best-known  director.  In  this  production  over  1,000  players 
and  300  horsemen  were  employed.  Many  expensive  sets  had  to 
be  constructed,  foremost  among  them  being  a  replica  of  the 
ancient  city  of  Bethulia,  the  mammoth  wall  that  protected  the 
ancient  city,  a  faithful  reproduction  of  the  army  camps  with  all 
their  barbaric  splendor  and  dances,  and  chariots,  battering  rams, 


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170  The  Generals  of  Shadowland 

scaling  ladders,  archers'  towers  and  many   other  machines  of 
warfare  of  that  period  of  long  ago. 

Prompted  no  doubt  by  the  success  of  his  earlier  production, 
this  director  undertook  America's  first  motion-picture  classic, 
based  on  our  Civil  War  and  the  period  of  reconstruction.  In  the 
battle  scenes  of  that  production  thousands  of  actors  afoot  and  on 
horseback  were  employed,  and  in  all  it  is  claimed  that  something 
like  15,000  people  took  part.  The  direction  of  the  big  scenes  was 
facilitated  by  the  use  of  a  telephone  system,  and  the  director, 
perched  high  above  the  field,  was  able  to  talk  with  his  cameramen 
and  sub-directors  in  all  parts  of  the  field,  ordering  out  the  cavalry 
at  the  right  moment,  the  artillery  fire  at  another,  and  the  various 
attacks  where  and  when  desired  in  conformity  with  his  recon- 
struction of  Civil  War  battles.  One  cannot  help  comparing  this 
task  to  that  of  a  painter  working  on  a  battle  scene;  for  the 
director,  even  if  he  does  not  wield  the  brush  and  pencil  and  pig- 
ments, none  the  less  creates  the  beautifully  finished  picture  which 
is  ultimately  presented  on  the  screen. 

FIGHTING  BLOOD   AND   FILM    REALISM 

When  viewing  the  average  battle  scene  the  question  invariably 
arises  in  the  mind  of  the  spectator:  Are  they  really  fighting? 
And  the  question  is  perfectly  justified,  for  the  striking  realism  of 
the  scenes  is  at  once  apparent  and  even  alarming  at  times.  The 
answer  is  that  the  men  do  fight — sometimes  too  earnestly,  al- 
though every  precaution  is  taken  to  the  end  that  tliey  will  not 
inflict  serious  injury  on  one  another  in  their  zest.  The  battles 
must  be  kept  in  the  sham  state. 

The  story  is  told  of  how  3,000  colored  players  taking  part  in 
some  of  the  scenes  of  a  Civil  War  photoplay  were  thoroughly 
alarmed  by  the  vicious  charges  of  the  Ku-Klux-Klan  men,  and 
as  a  result  of  these  over  half  their  number  deserted  and  refused 
to  finish  the  scenes  in  which  they  were  slated  to  appear.  Coaxing 
having  utterly  failed,  a  new  lot  of  men  had  to  be  sought  and 
hired,  causing  a  serious  loss  of  time 'and  money. 

But  this  occurrence  is  by  no  means  unusual,  for  the  players 
often  take  a  keen,  almost  too  keen,  interest  in  their  work,  forget- 
ting that  they  are  fighting  not  for  king  and  country  but  for  a  few 
hundred  feet  of  celluloid  ribbon — and  two  dollars  or  so  per  day. 


FILM  REALISM  OFTEN  BECOMES  TOO  REAL,  FOR  EVEN  THE  "EXTRAS' 
ARE  APT  TO  TAKE  THEIR  WORK  QUITE  SERIOUSLY 


172  The  Generals  of  Shadowland 

Prior  to  our  entrance  into  the  European  war  certain  directors 
had  experienced  trouble  in  staging  battles  based  on  the  war, 
especially  when  contending  nationals  met  in  sham  battles.  On  a 
certain  occasion  Italian  pseudo-soldiers  came  in  contact  with 
Austrian  pseudo-soldiers  in  a  Chicago  studio,  and  there  raged  a 
battle  which  was  bloody  even  though  waged  with  blunt  bayonet 
and  blank  cartridge.  Too  much  realism  is  worse  than  none,  so 
directors  have  had  to  be  careful  in  their  selection  of  extra  players 
for  battle  scenes. 

Accuracy  is  an  essential  in  the  high  grade  production,  and  in 
producing  his  first  classic  motion  picture  one  of  our  leading  di- 
rectors paid  particular  attention  to  the  small  details.  During  a 
big  battle  scene  a  dispute  arose  among  the  actors  as  to  the  color 
and  kind  of  horse  ridden  by  the  famous  commander-in-chief  of 
the  Confederate  forces  when  he  was  campaigning  at  the  head  of 
the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia.  The  director  was  away  at  the 
moment : 

"Better  stop  'taking,' ''  suggested  the  cameraman,  "till  wc 
telephone  in  and  have  the  facts  looked  up  and  verified." 

A  high-powered  touring  car  had  glided  up  behind  the  group. 
In  it  sat  the  director  himself. 

"What's  the  fuss  about?"  he  inquired.  When  told,  he  smiled 
tolerantly.  "Why,  Lee's  dappled  gray  charger  'Traveler,'  "  he 
remarked,  "is  one  of  the  thi'ee  most  famous  horses  in  history. 
Bucephalus'  and  Napoleon's  nags  were  the  other  two,  and  I've 
got  a  horse  as  near  like  'Traveler'  as  possible  waiting  in  that 
stable  yonder.    Go  on  with  your  'take.'  " 

In  a  more  recent  classic  production,  the  director  secured  his 
idea  from  a  Federal  Industrial  Commission  report,  which  stated 
that  a  large  number  of  men  had  gone  out  on  strike  owing  to  in- 
sufficient pay  in  the  face  of  the  rising  cost  of  living,  and  that 
when  the  strike  was  quelled  by  exceptionally  "strong  arm"  meth- 
ods, 19  strikers  were  missing — the  victims  of  the  corporation's 
guards.  With  little  else  to  work  from  except  this  report  and 
historical  accounts,  the  director  set  about  producing  his  master 
play  which  depicts  four  big  epochs  in  the  history  of  mankind;  in 
fact,  it  is  said  that  he  did  not  employ  a  scenario.  Thousands  of 
actors  appeared  in  the  various  scenes,  and  the  accuracy  of  the 
historic  events  has  been  highly  praised  by  connoisseurs. 


174  The  Generals  of  Shadowland 

In  a  war  photoplay  produced  in  California,  the  wig-wag  system 
of  signaling  was  employed  in  the  big  mob  scenes.  Instructions 
were  given  over  a  large  area  by  flag  signaling,  in  much  the  same 
manner  that  the  Navy  and  Army  units  converse  with  one  another 
at  a  distance.  In  order  to  obtain  several  spectacular  rain  scenes  a 
300- foot  hose  was  stretched  from  the  ocean  to  the  plateau  on 
which  was  stationed  the  camera.  At  a  given  signal  the  pumps 
were  set  working  and  two  nozzles  played  even  streams  on  the 
assembled  players,  while  the  camera  recorded  the  action  from 
under  a  large  umbrella.  While  this  feature  has  little  to  do  with 
the  handling  of  mob  scenes,  it  shows  that  there  are  times  when 
the  director  even  directs  the  weather — man-made  weather,  in 
this  case. 

TELEPHONE,    WIG-WAG   AND   WIRELESS 

Among  the  recent  productions,  one  based  on  the  life  of  the  im- 
mortal Joan  of  Arc  and  produced  in  California,  contains  a  number 
of  inspiring  battle  scenes  of  those  days  when  men  fought  at  close 
quarters  with  spear  and  mace  and  battle  axe,  each  carrying  a 
hundred  pounds  or  more  of  steel  protection  in  the  form  of  a  suit 
of  armor.  Fourteen  hundred  men  took  part  in  the  battle  scenes 
which  extended  over  a  field  one  hundred  acres  in  area.  The 
director  was  assisted  by  twelve  sub-directors  stationed  with  cam- 
eras at  various  vantage  points  about  the  field.  Each  sub-director, 
as  well  as  the  director,  was  equipped  with  a  standard  telephone 
operator's  set,  an  arrangement  enabhng  the  director-general 
to  control  the  movements  of  the  participants  and  to  direct  the 
entire  action  from  his  post  at  the  center  camera  stand.  Every- 
thing that  the  director  said  here  could  be  heard  by  the  twelve 
sub-directors  at  their  respective  stations.  Although  it  is  usual  to 
spend  at  least  two  days  in  rehearsing  a  big  battle  scene,  by  means 
of  the  telephonic  instructions  as  given  by  the  director-general 
it  was  found  possible  to  start  taking  pictures  after  less  than  one 
hour's  preparation. 

Over  2,700  men,  among  them  1,200  soldiers  belonging  to  the 
California  National  Guard,  325  horses,  several  batteries  of  field 
guns  and  25  airplanes,  and  one  armored  tractor  or  "tank"  figured 
in  the  battle  scenes  of  a  recent  serial  picture.  Various  means  were 
employed  in  transmitting  the  director's  instructions  to  the  play- 


FROM  THE  MASSACRE  OF  BELGIAN  CIVILIANS  TO   THE   FRENZIED  WALL 
STREET  SPECULATORS  IS   ALL  IN   A  DAY'S  WORK 


176  TJie  Generals  of  SJiadowland 

ers,  among  them  being  the  telephone,  wig-wagging,  and  even  wire- 
less telegraphy.  The  latter  was  necessary  in  directing  the  airships 
which  could  not  be  reached  in  any  other  manner  quite  so  effect- 
ively. All  the  latest  phases  of  warfare  were  depicted  in  these 
battle  scenes,  and  something  like  three  months  was  required  for 
the  battle  episodes  of  the  serial. 

Another  modern  battle  story  was  made  some  time  ago  in  the 
vicinity  of  New  York.  In  it  are  included  a  number  of  good  fight- 
ing scenes.  These  were  staged  in  Staten  Island,  across  the  bay 
from  New  York  city.  Three  weeks  were  spent  in  preparing  the 
ground,  and  one  week  in  taking  the  actual  scenes.  Over  one 
thousand  soldiers  of  the  Coast  Defense  Corps,  New  York  National 
Guard,  took  part  in  the  picture. 

In  this  production  the  wig-wag  system  was  employed  for  direct- 
ing the  distant  action,  and  the  megaphone  for  close-up  work.  In 
order  to  keep  the  spectators  from  wandering  into  the  picture,  that 
is  to  s'dy,  into  the  range  of  the  camera,  a  system  of  telephones  was 
installed  to  facilitate  communication  with  the  outpost  guards. 
In  all,  six  orders  were  issued  before  actual  pictures  were  taken 
of  these  particular  scenes,  which  illustrates  in  a  way  the  com- 
plexity of  a  typical  big  battle  scene. 

The  entire  field  was  mined  and  the  location  of  the  charges 
indicated  by  inconspicuous  stakes  driven  in  the  ground.  The 
director,  provided  with  a  map  of  the  mines,  was  in  a  position 
to  issue  orders  for  the  electrical  firing  of  the  various  mines,  thus 
giving  the  utmost  realism  to  the  charge  of  the  troops  through  a 
pseudo-barrage  of  bursting  shells. 

There  were  numerous  "realistic"  scenes  in  this  war  photoplay, 
such  as  bomb-dropping,  Zeppelin  and  airplane  fights,  destruction 
of  enormous  battleships  in  dramatic  sea  fights,  and  so  on.  But 
these  were  not  as  destructive  as  they  appear.  The  studio  yard  at 
that  time  was  the  battlefield  and  the  high  seas  in  miniature. 

Still  another  recent  production  includes  a  number  of  fighting 
scenes  of  the  house-to-house  and  street-battle  character  during 
the  invasion  of  Flanders  by  the  Germans.  These  scenes  were 
staged  in  a  village  erected  for  the  purpose  near  Sheepshead  Bay, 
Brooklyn.  Because  of  the  proximity  of  the  players  to  the  di- 
rector, the  megaphone  method  was  used  almost  exclusively  by 
the  director.    Among  the  startling  scenes  in  this  production  was 


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178  The  Generals  of  Shadowland 

the  shelling  of  ji  cabaret  room  used  at  the  time  for  hospital  pur- 
poses. In  producing  this  scene  explosives  were  placed  at  various 
points  in  the  walls  and  fired  electrically  at  the  propitious  moment 
to  simulate  bursting  shells. 

A   VILLAGE   ON    A   CLOCKWORK   BASIS 

A  director  recently  achieved  a  signal  success  in  a  New  England 
village  scene  which  he  was  directing  for  a  feature  photoplay. 
The  street  of  the  village  was  built  especially  for  him  on  the 
grounds  of  the  studio,  and  the  whole  village  with  its  various  side 
streets  and  residential  districts  was  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
long.  At  the  extreme  end  of  the  main  street  was  placed  a  lofty 
camera  platform,  built  so  that  the  director  might  raise  or  lower 
his  camera  to  any  height  desired. 

In  the  scene  were  depicted  the  usual  little  groups  of  village 
loiterers.  At  one  spot  two  men  were  "pitchin'  horseshoes";  at 
another,  the  itinerant  peddler  was  selling  his  wares  back  of  a 
wagon;  at  still  another  the  village  drunkard  was  haranguing  the 
usual  crowd  of  village  loafers.  At  the  end  of  the  street  farthest 
from  the  camera,  a  wagon  loaded  with  hay  swung  into  vision  and 
passed  down  the  main  street.  When  it  reached  a  certain  cross 
street,  a  throng  of  children  ran  laughing  and  playing  into  view. 
It  was  evident  that  "school  was  out."  The  youngsters  swarmed 
over  the  hay  wagon,  while  some  of  them  climbed  on  top  for  a  ride. 

To  have  these  bits  of  "atmosphere"  coordinated  required  care- 
ful preparation,  especially  as  the  difficulties  of  rehearsing  each 
group  in  its  work  were  great.  From  his  vantage  point  on  the 
camera  platform  the  director  commanded  a  clear  view  of  all  the 
action.  Masked  by  buildings  and  doorways,  six  assistants  under 
the  charge  of  the  director's  lieutenant,  or  right-hand  man,  each 
started  his  ow^n  group  of  actors  in  their  particular  business.  At 
the  foot  of  the  camera  platform  was  a  telephone  switchboard 
temporarily  placed  so  that  the  director  could  call  out  his  instruc- 
tions to  the  operator  who  relayed  them  to  each  assistant  over 
field  wires. 

Now  in  the -film  scene  the  line  of  wiring  which  stretched  down 
the  main  street  in  reality  carried  the  telephone  lines  through 
which  the  director  kept  in  touch  with  his  assistants.  The  whole, 
as  is  so  often  the  case  with  big  mob  scenes,  takes  but  a  few 


THE  VENICE  OF  ITALY  TRANSPLANTED  IN  CALIFORNIA,  THANKS  TO  THE 
SKILL  OF  THE  CARPENTERS  AND  PAINTERS 


180  The  Generals  of  Shadowland 

minutes  on  the  screen;  but  here  again  the  effect  was  well  worth 
the  hours  of  preparation  which  had  been  expended  on  it. 

WHEN  THE  PUBLIC  ACTS  FOR  THE  PICTURES AND  DOESN't  KNOW  IT 

Just  one  instance  will  serve  to  demonstrate  how  a  director 
sometimes  secures  a  splendid  mob  picture  without  letting  the  in- 
voluntary players  know  of  it.  A  director  was  recently  confronted 
with  the  difficulty  of  securing  a  scene  in  which  many  persons 
crowd  about  several  newsboys  who  are  announcing  an  important 
''extra."  According  to  the  film  story,  the  "extra"  tells  of  the  elec- 
tion of  a  disliked  candidate  for  office.  And  the  populace  show 
their  dishke  to  the  point  of  violent  anger. 

After  considerable  thought  the  director  decided  on  a  somewhat 
unusual  and  bold  scheme,  although  others  of  a  similar  nature  are 
resorted  to  regularly  by  different  directors.  He  had  several  boys 
don  the  garb  of  newsboys  and  sent  them  out  on  the  boardwalk  of 
Venice,  California.  Meantime  the  cameraman  and  this  director 
concealed  themselves  in  a  nearby  building,  within  full  view  of  the 
pseudo-newsboys. 

Soon  the  large  crowds  passing  up  and  down  the  boardwalk  were 
startled  by  the  cry  of  the  newsboys  to  the  effect  that  England  had 
declared  war  on  the  United  States.  Only  one  thing  could  happen: 
everybody  within  hearing  rushed  up  to  get  a  copy  of  the  "extra," 
and  then  stood  about  while  intently  searching  through  the  pages 
for  the  item  the  newsboys  had  announced.  One  by  one  they 
began  to  realize  that  a  joke  had  been  played  on  them,  and  their 
astonishment  changed  to  wrath. 

It  only  remained  for  the  cameraman,  director  and  newsboys 
to  escape  the  angry  crowds.  This  they  did  successfully,  after 
having  obtained  the  desired  picture. 

There  is  still  another  way  in  which  persons  pose  for  mob 
pictures  without  ever  being  aware  of  the  fact.  This  is  in  con- 
nection with  the  work  of  the  "weekly"  films  or  "current  events" 
films.  Scenes  taken  at  race  tracks,  army  maneuvers  and  camp 
scenes,  college  games  and  contests,  fires  and  explosions  and  other 
catastrophes,  and  similar  scenes  are  always  available  in  dramatic 
films  some  day  or  other.  If  a  director  is  putting  on  a  race  track 
picture  it  is  generally  possible  for  him  to  make  use  of  sections  of 
a  film  made  at  some  well-known  racing  event.     Clever  editing 


PREPARING     THE     "STAGE"     FOR    THE    MOB:       SOUTHERN     MANSION 
COURSE   OF  CONSTRUCTION   AND   DURING   FILMING 


IN 


182  The  Generals  of  Shadowland 

causes  these  scenes  to  dovetail  to  a  nicety  with  the  pattern  of  the 
film  story,  and  no  one  is  any  the  wiser.  The  same  can  apply  to 
all  manner  of  topical  film,  and  this  fact  the  "weekly"  men  always 
have  in  mind.  Indeed,  they  never  hesitate  to  photograph  wrecks, 
fires,  explosions,  society  events  and  other  similar  material,  for 
who  knows  when  one  director  or  the  other  will  be  able  to  use  this 
material  and  thus  save  thousands  of  dollars  on  a  feature  pro- 
duction? 

But  it  takes  skill,  to  be  sure;  for  the  director  must  know  just 
how  to  insert  these  extraneous  scenes  without  losing  the  con- 
tinuity of  his  story.  There  have  been  numerous  instances  where 
a  film  play  has  been  produced  merely  to  fit  around  a  certain  col- 
lection of  scenes  made  years  before. 

Such  is  the  work  of  the  generals  of  shadowland  warfare — ^the 
directors  of  photoplays.  Hundreds  of  instances  might  be  cited 
if  space  permitted,  but  no  greater  credit  to  these  men  could  pos- 
sibly be  done. 

One  moment  finds  the  director  handling  a  highly  emotional 
actress  in  a  close-up  scene,  where  the  stage  is  measured  in  feet; 
another  moment  he  is  directing  a  thousand  or  more  untrained, 
unemotional  extra  players  in  a  stage  five  miles  deep  with  the 
infinite  blue  of  the  sky  for  his  ceiling.  In  the  first  instance  he 
must  handle  his  subject  with  consummate  skill  so  as  to  bring  out 
the  foremost  characteristics  of  the  player,  yet  tone  down  the 
tendency  to  overact  which  is  so  often  to  be  contended  with.  In 
the  second  instance  he  must  secure  plenty  of  action  and  en- 
thusiasm, despite  the  poor  material  in  hand  and  the  difficulties 
presented  by  the  magnitude  of  his  stage. 

But  done  it  must  be.  For  there  is  no  such  word  as  "can't"  in 
the  language  of  the  film  man. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


TRICKS  OF  THE  SCREEN 


rriHE  OLD  SAYING  that  '7/?e  camera  never  lies" 
i  should  be  revised.  It  may  have  been  so  in  the  days 
before  the  motion  picture;  but  from  the  earliest  times 
the  screen  art  has  made  the  camera  lie  and  lie  persistently 
and  interestingly.  ''Tricks"  are  the  more  polite  name 
for  camera  lies,  and  "trick  pictures"  are  pictures  which 
do  not  tell  the  truth.  Yet  tricks  are  a  big  asset  in 
photoplay  production;  and  in  the  vast  bag  of  tricks  rests 
one  more  advantage  of  the  motion  picture  over  the  stage. 
Today  there  are  few  pictures  of  the  strictly  ''trick"  cate- 
gory. Tricks  are  used  rather  sparingly,  because  there 
are  so  many  prosaic  themes  which  can  be  produced  with 
straight  photography .  Still,  tricks  are  used  to  obtain 
pleasing  effects,  and  often  in  comedy  productions  to  obtain 
a  hearty  laugh. 


184  .  Tricks  of  the  Screen 

BECAUSE  of  the  illusions  and  wonderful  tricks  that  can  be 
performed  in  cinematography,  the  screen  will  always  pos- 
sess a  tremendous  advantage  over  the  legitimate  stage, 
aside  from  the  matter  of  limitless  scenery.  All  manner  of  things 
come  within  the* scope  of  pictures  portraying  real  life,  and  there 
is  still  another  field  opened  up  through  the  possibilities  of  me- 
chanical contrivances,  photographic  manipulations,  and  ingenious 
scenery  effects.  Whereas  the  audience  of  the  legitimate  stage 
view  the  production  directly  through  their  own  eyes,  the  motion- 
picture  audience  really  sees  through  the  single  eye  of  the  camera 
— and  because  of  that  fact  it  only  sees  what  the  producer  has 
deigned  that  it  should  see.  Which,  of  course,  facilitates  tricks 
and  effects  and  illusions  of  all  kinds. 

THE   MAGICIAN   OF   THE   SCREEN 

Back  in  the  early  days  of  motion  pictures  when  the  photoplay 
had  not  yet  come  into  its  own,  the  trick  picture  was  the  mainstay 
of  the  industry,  and  it  took  its  place  beside  the  travel  picture  and 
science  film.  .  Children  and  adults  alike  were  entertained  by 
mysterious  pots  and  plates  and  tableware  that  danced  about  as 
if  possessed  of  life,  by  tiny  fairies,  by  startling  conversions 
such  as  from  a  man  to  a  rabbit,  and  by  no  end  of  similar  subjects. 
With  the  advent  of  the  photoplay,  however,  these  films  practi- 
cally disappeared,  for  the  reason  that  their  production  is  time- 
consuming  and  expensive,  and  the  demand  for  such  films  is  too 
small  to  warrant  the  trouble  involved  in  their  manufacture. 

It  was  a  French  magician,  M.  Melies,  who  first  saw  the  possi- 
bihties  of  the  trick  pictures  and  immediately  set  to  work  applying 
his  stage  experience  in  this  newly  found  field.  He  devoted  much 
time  and  thought  to  the  production  of  such  films,  and  was  amply 
rewarded  by  the  signal  success  of  his  products.  Later  his  work 
was  emulated  by  others,  among  them  Mr.  Robert  Paul  of  Eng- 
land. Then  came  the  photoplay,  and  the  trick  picture  was  no 
longer  a  necessity.  And  while  it  passed  out  of  existence  as  a 
class,  many  of  the  tricks  used  in  those  early  subjects  have  been 
retained  by  present-day  producers. 

To  give  an  account  of  every  trick  employed  in  screen  produc- 
tion would  require  a  book  in  itself — a  loose-leaf  book,  for  that 
matter,  since  new  tricks  are  being  applied  almost  every  day. 


HANGING  FROM  THE  TWENTIETH  STORY  OF  A  SKYSCRAPER  AS  IT  LOOKS 
IN  THE  FILM   AND   BEHIND  THE  SCENES 


186  Tricks  of  the  Screen 


There  is  no  end  to  new  ideas  in  motion-picture  production, 
hence  the  impossibihty  of  covering  all  tricks.  So  it  is  the  au- 
thor's plan  here  to  cover  only  the  basic  and  more  important  tricks, 
which,  in  some  form  or  another,  arc  the  basis  for  practically  all 
the  tricks  now  seen  on  the  screen. 

Much  of  the  trick  work  is  done  photographically.  Among  the 
devices  employed  are  the  "fade-out"  and  its  reverse  effect,  the 
"fade-in,"  already  described  in  a  previous  chapter.  Aside  from 
the  regular  employment  of  these  effects  to  open  and  close  scenes, 
and  for  dissolving  one  scene  into  another,  there  are  many  trick 
possibilities.  A  fade-out  followed  by  a  fade-in,  so  timed  that 
the  image  on  the  screen  does  not  darken  perceptibly  because  the 
two  scenes  overlap  almost  entirely,  serves  to  introduce  new  char- 
acters in  a  gradual  and  pleasing  way.  Indeed,  the  new  characters 
sort  of  "materialize"  as  we  are  told  spirits  do  at  a  seance.  The 
fade-out  is  accomplished  in  the  usual  manner,  and  when  it  has 
reached  its  end,  the  characters  are  introduced  and  the  film  is 
wound  back  again,  after  which  the  camera  still  pointing  at  the 
same  scene  in  which  the  additional  characters  have  now  been 
introduced,  starts  filming  with  a  fade-in. 

The  sudden  stopping  of  the  camera  is  a  source  of  many  sur- 
prises. Any  old-time  film  "fan"  recalls  the  trick  pictures  in 
which  characters  would  suddenly  disappear  from  a  scene  in  a 
cloud  of  smoke,  or  would  suddenly  turn  into  something  else. 
These  are  the  simplest  of  tricks,  notwithstanding  the  baffling 
results.  In  the  first  class  of  effects  the  camera  is  stopped  short, 
the  character  or  characters  step  out  of  the  scene,  a  smoke  pot  is 
ignited  and  placed  on  the  spot  formerly  occupied  by  the  player  or 
players,  and  the  camera  again  starts  taking  pictures.  In  the 
second  class  the  character  or  characters  leave  the  stage  after  the 
camera  has  stopped  short,  and  the  desired  object  is  placed  where 
the  character  or  characters  stood  last.  Of  course,  the  camera 
cannot  always  stop  short  and  the  substituted  subject  does  not 
always  coincide  on  the  negative  as  made.  For  this  reason  some 
cutting  is  required  on  the  negative  in  order  to  match  up  the  two 
strips  of  film  made  in  the  camera. 

Many  tricks  can  be  accounted  for  by  stopping  the  camera. 
Where  a  player  suddenly  changes  into  another  character  or  into 
a  statue,  the  stopping  of  the  camera  and  the  substitution  explain 


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188  Tricks  of  the  Screen 


the  result.  If  the  conversion  is  gradual  and  mystifying,  it  is  done 
by  a  fade-out  and  fade-in,  as  already  described.  In  either  case 
the  players  proceed  with  their  work  until  the  director  issues 
some  such  command  as  ''Hold!"  or  ''Rigid!"  whereupon  they 
stop  further  acting  instantly  and  hold  their  postures.  The  sub- 
stitution is  then  effected,  and  with  the  continuation  of  the  filming 
the  players  come  out  of  their  rigid  postures  and  continue  with 
the  action. 

WHY   BREAK   GOOD   NECKS   WHEN    DUMMIES   ARE   AVAILABLE? 

The  hair-raising  scenes  where  the  villain  is  cast  from  the  top 
of  a  tall  bluff  by  the  curly-haired  hero  are  largely  possible  be- 
cause of  the  sudden  stopping  of  the  camera  and  the  substitution 
of  a  dummy.  The  fight,  for  instance,  proceeds  up  to  a  certain 
point  where  the  unlucky  villain  is  about  to  drop  over  the  brink. 
Then  the  camera  stops  short,  and  a  dummy,  dressed  exactly  like 
the  villain,  takes  his  place  in  the  hands  of  the  pseudo  hero.  Then 
the  camera  starts  up  again,  and  the  hero,  with  a  final  heroic 
effort,  pushes  the  dummy  over  the  brink.  Another  camera  "shoot- 
ing" the  scene  from  some  vantage  point,  secures  the  action  of  the 
life-like  dummy  hurtling  to  its  doom.  And  finally,  when  the 
dummy  has  reached  the  bottom,  the  cameraman  sets  up  his  ma- 
chine while  the  real  villain  takes  the  place  of  the  dummy.  The 
"close-up"  of  the  real  villain  lying  in  a  heap  concludes  the 
thrilling  fight.  Much  depends  on  the  cutting  and  matching  up 
on  such  scenes,  for  the  camera  does  not  stop  quite  short  enough, 
nor  does  it  start  quite  soon  enough,  to  join  up  the  scenes.  There 
is  some  waste  at  the  end  and  the  start  of  adjoining  "takes,"  which 
must  be  eliminated  in  the  cutting  room. 

One  of  the  trick  pictures  turned  out  by  a  French  producer  some 
years  ago  depicted  a  man  being  run  over  by  an  automobile,  after 
he  had  fallen  asleep  in  the  street.  His  two  legs  were  cut  off  com- 
pletely ;  yet,  undaunted,  this  inveterate  sleeper  picked  up  his  sev- 
ered limbs  and  signalled  with  them  to  a  passerby  who  happened 
to  be  a  surgeon.  In  a  few  moments  the  surgeon  succeeded  in 
replacing  the  limbs,  whereupon  the  inveterate  sleeper  arose,  shook 
hands  with  his  benefactor,  and  went  his  way.  All  in  all,  the 
effect  was  most  convincing  on  the  screen. 

But  the  picture  was  a  painless  proposition,  to  be  sure.    In  the 


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190  Tricks  of  the  Screen 

first  place  two  actors  took  the  same  role,  one  of  them  a  normal 
individual  and  the  other  a  legless  man.  By  ingenious  makeup 
the  two  actors  were  made  to  resemble  each  other.  Lastly,  two 
artificial  legs  were  provided. 

Now  then,  the  normal  actor  was  first  filmed  up  to  the  point 
where  he  went  to  sleep  in  the  roadway,  while  an  automobile  was 
shown  coming  up  to  where  he  lay.  The  acting  was  slow  and  so 
was  the  rate  of  travel  of  the  automobile;  in  fact,  to  reduce  the 
danger  in  all  scenes  of  this  nature  the  vehicles  move  quite  slowly 
and  the  acting  is  slowed  down  in  like  manner,  so  that  everything 
can  be  carried  out  without  trouble  or  undue  danger.  Yet  when 
the  film  is  projected  at  the  standard  rate  the  action  is  speeded 
up  to  the  normal  point  and  the  illusion  is  convincing. 

When  the  automobile  reached  the  first  actor,  the  camera  was 
stopped  and  the  second  legless  actor  took  his  place,  with  the 
artificial  legs  placed  on  the  other  side  of  the  wheel  about  to  pass 
"over"  the  sleeper.  Then  the  camera  started  and  the  automobile 
passed  on.  Then  the  legless  player  picked  up  his  limbs  and 
waved  them  and  continued  in  the  picture  until  the  time  came  to 
rise  and  shake  hands  with  the  surgeon.  Here  the  second  substi- 
tution took  place,  and  the  normal  actor  carried  the  picture 
through  to  the  end. 

ANIMATING   DISHES   AND   OTHER   THINGS 

Another  prolific  source  of  screen  tricks  is  the  stop-motion  or 
single-picture  movement  of  the  camera.  As  was  explained  in  the 
camera  chapter,  the  camera  takes  images  either  at  the  standard 
rate  of  sixteen  per  second,  or  one  image  for  every  turn  of  the 
crank.  This  being  the  case,  the  possibilities  of  the  stop-motion 
movement  are  at  once  apparent.  Any  subject  posed  between 
single  exposures  can  be  represented  on  the  screen  as  doing  no  end 
of  humorous  and  starthng  things. 

Practically  anything  can  be  animated  in  this  manner.  The 
earher  trick  pictures  generally  showed  household  things,  such  as 
pots  and  dishes  and  tableware,  jumping  about  in  a  most  con- 
vincing manner.  Again,  a  little  boy  was  shown  fast  asleep, 
dreaming  of  his  toy  soldiers  which  immediately  sprang  to  life 
and  engaged  in  military  maneuvers.  There  was  no  end  to  the 
pictures  of  this  kind. 


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192  Tricks  of  the  Screen 


Much  patience  and  weeks  and  months  of  work  are  required 
on  the  part  of  the  producer  of  this  class  of  pictures.  One  picture 
is  made  at  a  time,  with  an  occasional  '^string''  of  several  pictures; 
and  the  subjects  must  be  slightly  altered  between  each  picture  or 
"string"  of  pictures.  When  thrown  on  the  screen  at  the  regular 
rate  of  speed,  the  successive  images  depict  quite  an  animation 
without  signs  of  the  hands  which  rearranged  the  subjects  between 
images. 

Animated  cartoons,  animated  sculptures,  and  animated  dolls 
are  produced  in  this  manner,  as  described  in  a  subsequent  chapter. 
The  same  principle  applies  to  animated  titles,  in  which  the  letters 
go  through  various  evolutions  and  capers  before  taking  their 
regular  places. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  effects  of  the  stop  motion  is  the 
reduction  of  time.  For  example,  it  is  possible  to  show  the  growth 
and  development  of  a  rose  in  ten  minutes,  so  that  the  audience 
beholds  the  flower  passing  through  its  life  of  several  weeks  in  as 
many  minutes.  This  is  accomplished  by  setting  up  a  camera 
which  makes  an  image  of  the  rose  every  ten  minutes  of  half  hour 
or  hour.  And  when  the  film  is  projected  at  the  usual  speed,  the 
time  is  reduced  accordingly.  This  effect  has  also  been  employed 
in  showing  how  a  building  is  constructed. 

The  stop-motion,  when  combined  with  other  effects,  such  as  the 
reverse,  has  many  possibilities.  One  of  these  is  the  mass  of  clay 
which  develops  into  a  perfect  statue  on  the  screen,  without  any 
aid  whatsoever.  In  this  effect  a  statue  is  first  modeled  in  soft 
clay,  after  which  the  camera  makes  a  certain  number  of  feet  of 
it  and  then  switches  over  to  the  stop-motion  shaft.  Then  after 
each  image  is  made  the  soft  clay  statue  is  struck  with  a  stick, 
until  at  the  end  it  is  reduced  to  a  shapeless  mass.  If  the  film  is 
projected  in  the  usual  manner,  the  statue  dissolves  into  a  shape- 
less mass.  If  the  film  is  reversed,  which  can  be  done  in  the  first 
place  by  mounting  the  camera  upside  down  on  its  tripod,  the 
effect  is  the  forming  of  a  statue  from  a  shapeless  mass  of 
clay. 

THE  MIRACLES   OF  DOUBLE   PRINTING 

What  cannot  be  done  with  the  camera  in  the  way  of  trick 
pictures  can  be  done  in  the  laboratory  by  clever  printing.    Thus 


SPIRIT  EFFECTS  SUCH  AS  THESE  ARE  OBTAINED  BY  DOUBLE  EXPOSURES 
ON  THE  SAME   NEGATIVE 


194  Tricks  of  the  Screen 


some  of  the  most  remarkable  effects  are  the  result  of  double  and 
even  triple  printings  in  making  the  positives. 

The  earlier  fairy  pictures  used  to  depict  diminutive  players 
in  the  same  scene  as  full  ^ized  players.  For  instance,  a  fairy 
would  appear  in  the  bottl*^  of  a  heavy  drinker  and  dance  about 
to  his  amazement.  Startling  as  the  effect  was  on  the  screen,  its 
production  was  nothing  more  than  a  plain  piece  of  photography. 
In  such  a  case  the  full-sized  player  was  first  filmed  in  a  close-up, 
with  a  dark  bottle  which  photographed  poorly ;  that  is  to  say,  its 
reflection  was  so  slight  that  it  left  a  black  or  blank  space  on  the 
negative.  Then  another  full-sized  player,  dressed  as  a  fairy, 
was  photographed  against  a  dead-black  drop  at  a  sufficient  dis- 
tance away  to  bring  down  the  size  of  the  image  to  that  required 
to  fit  the  bottle.  Generally  the  full-sized  figure  of  the  head  and 
chest  was  filmed  at  three  to  five  feet,  while  the  fairy  was  filmed 
at  a  distance  as  great  as  150  feet.  Then  the  two  films,  with 
their  subjects  carefully  registered,  were  printed  on  one  positive 
with  wonderful  result. 

Cloud  effects  and  submarine  effects  are  produced  by  double 
printing,  as  a  general  thing.  In  those  scenes  where  the  action 
takes  place  below  the  surface  of  water,  the  simplest  procedure 
is  to  make  a  strip  of  film  of  an  aquarium  with  the  fish  and  other 
denizens  swimming  about,  and  another  film  of  the  action  against 
a  suitable  background  in  the  studio.  When  these  negatives  are 
completed  a  positive  is  made  by  double  printing,  producing  a 
most  realistic  effect.  Sometimes  an  aquarium  is  interposed  be- 
tween the  subject  and  the  camera  lens,  but  this  is  not  always 
satisfactory  for  the  reason  that  the  water,  acting  as  a  supple- 
mentary lens,  distorts  and  blurrs  the  subjects.  In  the  case  of  sea 
nymphs  which  appear  to  swim  about  with  utmost  ease,  the  effect 
is  secured  by  placing  the  players  on  a  suitable  background  resting 
on  the  floor  of  the  studio,  while  the  camera  "shoots"  the  scene 
from  above.  This  negative,  in  conjunction  with  another  made 
of  an  aquarium,  produces  the  realistic  positive. 

Cloud  effects  are  obtained  by  double  printing.  A  negative  is 
prepared  of  pretty  cloud  effects  and  kept  as  regular  stock  in  the 
studio  vaults.  At  any  time  such  stock  negative  can  be  used  in 
conjunction  with  another  of  some  action,  say  of  an  allegorical  or 
religious  nature,  to  make  a  positive. 


,  ^fllSllillll 
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SPLIT-STAGE    WORK,    AS    ALREADY    DESCRIBED,    PERMITS    OF    DOUBLING 
OR  CUTTING  UP  AN  ACTOR 


196  Tricks  of  the  Screen 


Where  titles  are  introduced  in  a  scene,  especially  in  instances 
where  a  thought,  moral,  or  dialogue  is  represented  by  one  or  more 
lines  of  type,  the  effect  is  produced  by  double  printing.  The  scene 
is  filmed  in  the  usual  manner  as  well  as  the  title  on  another  piece 
of  negative.  Then  the  two  negatives  are  double  printed,  produc- 
ing the  desired  result. 

The  various  methods  of  splitting  a  scene  so  that  the  same  actor 
can  appear  twice  at  a  time — "twin  brother"  stuff,  so  to  speak — 
have  been  described  in  the  chapter  dealing  with  the  cameraman 
and  his  work.  The  use  of  matts  and  the  double  exposure  box 
were  described  at  length.  It  is  well  to  add  here,  however,  that 
some  of  these  effects  can  also  be  produced  by  double  printing, 
wherever  the  two  halves  of  a  scene  are  separated  both  with  regard 
to  time  and  place.  Where  visions  or  thoughts  or  dreams  are 
depicted,  the  effects  are  obtained  either  in  the  camera  or  in  the 
printing  operations,  according  to  which  is  the  most  convenient 
and  the  most  realistic. 

A   STUDY   IN   BACKWARD   MOVEMENT 

The  most  ludicrous  and  startling  results  are  obtained  by  operat- 
ing a  camera  upside  down  on  its  tripod.  Several  types  of  camera 
are  provided  with  tripod  holes  on  top  as  well  as  on  the  bottom, 
permitting  their  use  upside  down.  In  this  manner  it  is  possible 
to  photograph  a  subject  quite  conventionally,  yet  when  it  is 
shown  through  a  projecting  machine  the  action  is  backwards; 
that  is  to  say,  the  action  starts  from  the  rear  end  and  runs  toward 
the  beginning.  The  results  are  easily  imagined.  If  a  man  is  pho- 
tographed jumping  into  the  water,  the  film  when  shown  on  the 
screen  shows  the  water  opening  up  (the  reverse  of  the  splash) 
and  the  performer  jumping  up  to  the  spring  board  (the  reverse  of 
the  dive)  and  finally  the  performer  jumping  a  few  times  on  the 
tip  of  the  spring  board  and  then  running  backwards  off  the  board. 

In  comedies  the  backward  movement  is  employed  to  a  great 
extent,  such  as  in  showing  automobiles  racing  backward,  barrels 
rolling  uphill,  and  so  on.  In  the  instance  of  a  comedy  villain 
throwing  knives  about  his  victim  who  is  strapped  to  a  post,  the 
effect  can  be  produced  by  first  placing  the  knives  about  the 
victim  and  then  pulling  out  the  knives  one  by  one  with  invisible 
threads  as  the  camera  is  operated  upside  down.     The  villain, 


198  Tricks  of  the  Screen 


however,  is  photographed  in  a  separate  scene  while  throwing  the 
daggers  or  knives,  which  action,  obviously,  is  photographed  in 
the  usual  manner,  with  the  camera  right  side  up. 

It  is  also  possible  to  make  a  print  so  that  the  action  will  be 
backwards,  where  the  effect  has  not  been  produced  in  the  camera. 
This  applies  particularly  to  photoplays  in  which  the  action  is 
first  shown  one  way,  and  subsequently  is  shown  backwards.  In 
order  that  the  two  actions  may  coincide  to  perfection,  the  same 
negative  is  copied  both  the  right  way  and  reversed. 

Another  device  of  the  comedy  film  is  high-speed  action.  Some 
scenes  may  show  certain  characters  working  with  the  speed  of 
lightning,  or  a  vehicle  tearing  along  a  road  at  express-train 
speed.  This  effect  is  produced  by  taking  pictures  at  a  rate  of 
speed  slower  than  the  usual  sixteen  images  per  second,  and  then 
when  the  same  pictures  are  projected  at  the  standard  speed  the 
action  is  accelerated  proportionately. 

The  simple  example  of  accelerated  action — or  shall  we  call  it 
electrified  action? — is  where  everything  in  a  scene  is  moving  at 
about  the  same  gait.  In  this  case  the  film  was  simply  made  at  a 
slower  rate  of  speed.  But  in  those  scenes  where  only  part  of  the 
performers  move  at  the  accelerated  speed  while  others  appear 
quite  natural,  the  effect  calls  for  some  care  on  the  part  of  the 
slow-moving  or  normal  performers.  These  must  act  very,  very 
slowly  while  the  other  performers  act  in  the  usual  manner,  the 
action  being  filmed  at  ten  or  twelve  images  per  second.  Then 
when  the  film  is  projected  at  the  standard  speed,  the  effect  is  to 
speed  up  the  slow-acting  performers  to  the  usual,  natural  gait, 
while  the  performers  who  acted  at  the  normal  speed  are  acceler- 
ated to  ludicrous  actions.  Film  that  has  been  made  at  the 
regular  rate  oi  speed  can  be  accelerated  in  the  laboratory  by 
eliminating  certain  parts  or  images  at  regular  intervals.  But  in 
this  procedure  all  the  characters  in  the  scene  are  uniformly  ac- 
celerated. 

THOSE   ATHLETIC    COMEDIANS ! 

It  seems  to  be  quite  the  accepted  thing  among  film  "fans"  to 
expect  a  favorite  actor  to  climb  the  fronts  of  houses  and  do  all 
manner  of  other  daring  feats.  Yet  if  they  stopped  to  analyze 
some  of  the  "stunts"  performed  by  their  screen  heroes,  they  would 


THOSE  SCENES  IN  WHICH  THE  AUDIENCE  RIDES  MILE  AFTER  MILE  WITH 
THE   PLAYERS   ARE  MADE  IN    EITHER   WAY   SHOWN 


200  Tricks  of  the  Screen 


soon  realize  that  these  men  could  not  possibly  do  the  things  they 
apparently  do.  And  here  is  where  we  unearth  the  close  aUiance 
between  property  man  and  actor  especially  in  comedy  produc- 
tions. 

Your  hero  who  climbs  up  the  front  of  the  house  can  do  so  in 
several  ways  without  being  a  champion  climber.  In  the  first 
place,  and  where  realism  is  essential,  a  ''front"  representing  a 
house  can  be  erected  on  the  studio  grounds,  provided  with  orna- 
ments which  in  reality,  are  nothing  more  than  staggered  rungs 
of  a  ladder  These  ornaments  make  it  quite  a  simple  matter  for 
the  hero  to  climb  or  descend  the  house  front. 

Then  there  is  another  method,  with  even  greater  possibilities. 
That  is  the  ''front"  that  is  laid  on  the  studio  floor  while  the 
cameras  "shoot"  the  scene  from  above.  The  hero  climbs  up  the 
front  of  the  house  by  crawling  on  his  hands  and  knees  along  the 
studio  floor.  And  the  same  equipment  makes  it  possible  for  the 
"human  fly"  effect,  the  dog  or  horse  running  up  the  side  of  a 
house,  or  even  the  automobile  dashing  up  a  wall.  The  work  is 
quite  harmless  and  simple,  to  be  sure;  but  so  effectively  painted 
is  the  canvas  laid  on  the  floor  that  it  is  often  a  perfect  illusion 
when  shown  on  the  screen. 

There  used  to  be  a  certain  brand  of  comedy  films  which  made 
a  great  name  for  itself  because  of  its  wonderful  action.  The 
audience  was  held  by  some  bit  of  clever  action  every  moment  of 
the  entire  film.  The  acting  was  largely  in  the  nature  of  the  so- 
called  "slap-stick"  comedy,  but  it  was  perhaps  the  highest  class 
of  such  comedy  turned  out  until  that  time. 

Now  the  performers  of  that  brand  of  film  did  the  most  startling 
things.  They  smashed  into  walls  and  went  through  houses  on 
motorcycles  and  in  automobiles ;  they  ran  mile  after  mile  at  hair- 
raising  speed;  they  went  through  the  floor  of  one  apartment  and 
into  the  rooms  below,  along  with  a  deluge  of  lumber  and  plaster 
and  what  not. 

In  this  case  the  property  man's  work  was  apparent  at  every 
turn.  In  the  case  of  those  dashes  through  walls,  the  studio 
carpenters  merely  constructed  a  suitable  scenery  on  the  "lot," 
which  was  so  arranged  as  to  break  away  at  any  fair  provocation. 
Thus  the  wooden  "bricks"  were  built  into  a  wall,  and  the  various 
materials  were  lightly  held  together.    The  same  applies  to  those 


202  Tricks  of  the  Screen 


scenes  where  performers  crashed  through  a  floor.  The  construc- 
tion in  all  such  scenes  was  of  the  "breakaway"  or  "break-apart" 
variety,  cleverly  got  up  so  as  to  make  it  seem  quite  the  real  thing. 

Where  a  vehicle  or  a  performer  is  shown  dashing  along  at  a 
righ  rate  of  speed,  with  the  scenery  flashing  behind  him,  the 
effect  can  be  secured  in  two  ways.  First,  the  effect  may  be  the 
real  thing,  in  which  case  the  vehicle  or  performer  is  filmed  from 
an  automobile  or  motor  truck  moving  in  a  parallel  direction. 
Secondly,  and  most  likely,  it  may  be  faked  in  the  studio  yard  by 
means  of  a  merry-go-round  arrangement.  This  consists  of  a 
circular  platform  with  suitable  scenery  on  its  inner  edge,  suitably 
mounted  so  that  it  can  be  revolved.  Now  then,  with  the  per- 
former or  vehicle  placed  on  the  platform  and  with  said  platform 
in  action,  the  vehicle  or  performer  merely  has  to  simulate  rapid 
travel  while  the  stationary  camera  films  the  subject  which  does 
not  move  very  far  from  a  fixed  point  in  the  range  of  the  lens. 
Meanwhile  the  scenery  flashes  by  at  the  rear  in  a  convincing- 
enough  manner. 

Where  an  automobile  is  shown  riding  along  a  road  for  mile 
after  mile,  the  screen  audience  obviously  traveling  along  with 
the  vehicle,  the  effect  has  been  produced  by  mounting  the  camera 
either  on  the  car  itself,  such  as  on  the  hood  or  on  a  platform  ex- 
tending in  front  of  the  hood,  or  on  a  separate  car  or  motor  truck 
in  front.  In  the  latter  case  the  motor  truck  or  car  generally  tows 
the  automobile  where  fairly  close-up  action  is  to  be  shown,  the 
hauling  cable  being  hidden  from  the  camera  in  some  suitable 
manner.  By  hauling  the  automobile  a  definite  distance  is  main- 
tained between  the  camera  and  the  subject,  and  there  is  no  danger 
of  a  colUsion. 

Papier  mache  bottles,  plates,  clubs  and  so  on,  hinged  lamp 
posts,  rubber  prison  bars — all  these  things  are  but  a  few  of  the 
many  contributions  of  the  property  man  to  the  film  comedian. 
The  dishes  which  the  comedians  smash  on  each  other's  faces  with 
such  apparent  abandon  are  certainly  of  the  breakable  variety, 
arranged  to  smash  at  the  slightest  coaxing.  Yet  a  custard  pie  is 
always  a  custard  pie :  it  must  be  real  to  produce  a  reel  laugh ! 


CHAPTER   X 


FROM  THE  CAMERA  TO 
THE  SCREEN 


/VS  A  LONG,  long  journey  from  the  camera  to  the 
screen—  from  the  exposed  negative  film  in  the  camera 
to  the  fin  ished  positive  film  ready  for  projection .  And 
all  the  work  of  players^  scene  carpenters  and  painters, 
director  and  cameraman  is  in  the  balance  while  the  film  is 
passing  through  the  various  phases  of  its  laboratory  career. 
If  the  film  is  ruined,  then  all  the  work  expended  thus  far  is 
irretrievably  lost.  But  film  producers  have  always  seen  to 
it  that  their  work  would  not  be  ruined  in  the  laboratory; 
the  best  photographers  and  the  most  skilled  photographic 
chemists  are  employed  in  the  work.  Far  from  endan- 
gering the  films  placed  in  their  hands,  the  laboratory 
staff  often  reclaim  the  poor  work  of  the  cameraman  and 
avoid  the  expense  of  sending  an  entire  company  to  a 
distant  location  for  a  "retake."" 


204  From  the  Camera  to  the  Screen 

A  GRAIN  of  dust,  a  slight  variation  in  compounding  a  chem- 
ical solution  or  in  its  temperature,  an  impure  water 
supply,  an  otherwise  insignificant  fluctuation  in  the  vol- 
tage of  the  current  supply  for  the  printing  lamps,  a  trifling  rise 
or  fall  in  the  temperature  of  certain  rooms,  an  inconsiderable 
shrinkage  of  the  film — all  these  factors  can  mark  the  difference 
between  a  clean,  clear  and  steady  picture  on  the  screen,  and  a 
spotty,  indistinct,  and  jumpy  film  unfit  for  use.  Which  means  that 
once  the  film  leaves  the  camera,  the  work  of  the  actors,  director, 
and  cameraman  is  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  laboratory  man; 
and  upon  his  experience,  skill  and  care  depend  the  screen  results. 

DUST,    THE    MOTION    PICTURE'S    ARCH    ENEMY 

At  regular  intervals  the  raw  stock  is  received  at  the  motion- 
picture  laboratory  in  such  quantities  as  always  to  insure  a  fresh 
supply.  Usually  the  film  is  unperforated  when  received  for 
economical  reasons  and  also  because  of  the  fact  that,  to  ensure 
accurate  perforations,  it  is  best  to  perforate  it  where  it  is  to  be 
used.  So  the  very  first  step  in  the  laboratory  is  the  preparation 
of  the  raw  stock,  either  negative  or  positive,  in  the  perforating 
room. 

To  perforate  the  plain  film,  great  care  must  be  exercised,  for 
upon  the  accuracy  of  this  work  depends  the  steadiness  of  the 
picture  on  the  screen.  The  machines  employed  for  this  work 
perforate  one  set  of  holes  at  a  time,  after  which  the  film  is  moved 
forward  the  required  distance  in  order  to  perforate  another  set. 
The  perforators  are  operated  with  scrupulous  care,  and  special 
attention  is  given  to  maintain  rigid  and  uniform  conditions  of 
both  humidity  and  temperature.  Above  all,  the  perforating  room 
must  be  devoid  of  dust  and  dirt,  for  tiny  specks  on  either  negative 
or  positive  stock  loom  up  big  when  magnified  hundreds  of  times 
on  the  screen;  indeed,  all  film  operations  must  be  carried  out  in 
the  form  of  a  constant  combat  with  the  dust  menace. 

Still  another  phase  of  perforating  is  to  condition  the  air  prop- 
erly, so  that  static  electricity  will  not  develop  and  spoil  the  film 
by  permanently  marking  it  with  lightning-like  streaks.  As  can 
well  be  imagined  from  what  has  already  been  said,  this  work, 
from  first  to  last,  is  carried  out  in  almost  total  darkness,  such 
light  as  is  permissible  being  supplied  by  ruby  ^'safety"  lamps. 


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FILMS  ARE  WOUND   ON  RACKS  AND  DIPPED  IN  LARGE  TANKS   FOR  THE 
VARIOUS  DEVELOPING  OPERATIONS 


206  Fro7n  the  Camera  to  the  Screen 


DEVELOPING   FILMS    BY    THE    MILE 

The  developing  of  motion-picture  negatives  is  much  the  same 
as  that  of  amateur  films.  The  film  is  received  in  either  the 
camera  magazine  or  in  a  sealed  tin  case,  and  upon  being  removed 
from  the  container  in  the  dark  room,  it  is  wound  on  a  wooden 
rack,  emulsion  side  out.  The  rack  is  then  placed  in  a  narrow, 
vertical  tank  containing  the  developer.  Taking  the  necessary 
precautions  against  the  formation  of  air  bubbles  on  the  film,  the 
developing  process  is  allowed  to  proceed. 

Now  while  the  amateur  photographer  has  merely  to  place  the 
contents  of  a  packet  or  vial  into  so  much  water,  and  then  deposit 
his  film  in  this  solution  for  so  many  minutes,  the  motion-picture 
worker  handling  thousands  of  feet  of  film  has  to  make  certain 
that  his  solution  is  in  constant  motion.  To  this  end  the  usual 
practice  is  to  keep  the  developing  solution  in  constant  circula- 
tion, while  to  ensure  perfect  results  the  temperature  is  carefully 
maintained  at  a  fixed  standard. 

The  film  racks  are  occasionally  lifted  from  the  developing 
tanks  and  brought  in  front  of  dim  ruby  lamps  to  ascertain  the 
extent  of  the  development.  This,  however,  is  not  the  practice 
of  a  well-known  laboratory  expert,  who  has  his  time  of  develop- 
ing prearranged  with  such  great  accuracy  that  after  the  shaking 
up  and  down  of  the  rack  to  avoid  air  bubbles,  the  film  is  left  for 
a  predetermined  length  of  time.  His  assistants  are  trained  ac- 
cordingly. 

Great  care  is  required  in  preparing  the  developing  solutions. 
Hundreds  of  gallons  of  developer  is  required  daily  in  the  larger 
laboratories,  and  in  each  case  a  skilled  chemist  determines  the 
proper  composition.  Formerly  these  solutions  were  prepared  by 
a  sort  of  rule-o'-thumb:  the  workers  placed  a  half-barrel  of  this 
constituent,  three  scoopfuls  of  that,  and  a  handful  of  a  third 
into  five  barrels  of  water!  And  if  the  work  did  not  turn  out  quite 
right,  they  unblushingly  blamed  it  on  some  unknown  condition. 

But  to-day  such  procedure  is  no  longer  tolerated.  The  in- 
dustry has  reached  the  highest  standards  of  photographic  achieve- 
ment. The  developing  solutions  to  which  miles  upon  miles  of 
film  is  entrusted  every  day,  with  its  imprisoned  hours  and 
days  of  work  on  the  part  of  expensive  actors,  directors,  camera- 


ABOVE:     SCENE  IN  A  MODERN  FILM  DARKROOM.     BELOW:     SCENE  IN  THE 
WASHING  ROOM,  WHERE  FILMS  ARE  RINSED 


208  From  the  Camera  to  the  Screen 


men,  scene  painters  and  carpenters, have  simply  got  to  be  watched 
and  tested  at  intervals;  and  when  the  first  signs  of  exhaustion 
appear  they  must  be  replaced  with  fresh  lots.  Any  other  pro- 
cedure would  be  suicidal  in  a  business  sense. 

THE   QUESTION   OF   PURE   WATER  AND   PLENTY   OF  IT 

When  the  film  has  been  developed  to  the  required  degree,  it 
must  be  fixed  and  then  thoroughly  washed  so  as  to  remove  all 
traces  of  hypo.  For  this  purpose  the  film,  still  on  the  wooden 
rack,  is  placed  m  a  large  tub  through  which  passes  a  constant 
stream  of  fresh  water.  As  in  the  case  of  the  chemicals,  every 
drop  of  water  must  be  filtered  and  known  to  be  free  from  any 
injurious  ingredients  before  it  is  allowed  to  come  in  contact  with 
the  film.  This  means  that  a  pure  water  supply  must  be  available 
in  the  first  place,  and  that  batteries  of  filters  must  be  employed 
to  remove  all  particles  of  foreign  matter. 

Several  years  ago  a  film  laboratory  experienced  considerable 
trouble  with  its  work:  films  were  never  quite  up  to  the  required 
standard,  although  the  same  staff  with  the  same  equipment  had 
turned  out  an  excellent  product  when  located  in  another  part  of 
the  city.  Chemists  were  called  in;  and  they  immediately  set  to 
work  analyzing  the  water  supply,  since  that  is  generally  the  most 
likely  source  of  trouble.  They  found  that  the  water,  taken  from 
a  nearby  river,  contained  considerable  quantities  of  an  unde- 
sirable and,  indeed,  injurious  substance,  and  advised  the  labora- 
tory man  to  that  effect. 

Whereupon  the  producer  had  a  special  well  sunk  to  a  depth  of 
over  a  thousand  feet  on  his  own  property,  in  order  to  tap  a  virgin 
supply  of  water,  which,  fortunately  for  him,  proved  to  be  ideal 
for  film  purposes.  And  this  example  is  also  the  story,  with  but 
few  minor  changes,  of  numerous  film  laboratories;  for  above 
everything  else  the  developing  of  film  calls  for  water — pure 
water,  and  plenty  of  it. 

The  celluloid  ribbon,  still  on  the  original  racks,  is  ready  to  be 
sent  to  the  drying  room.  Here  it  is  taken  off  the  racks  and  wound 
on  wood  or  metal  drums  which  are  revolving  at  a  fair  rate  of 
speed.  This  drying  operation  is  carried  out  in  a  room  whose 
temperature  is  such  as  to  ensure  a  high  degree  of  dryness;  and 
the  air  too  is  carefully  adjusted  so  as  to  aid  this  condition.    It 


TWO    VIEWS    OF    TYPICAL    DRYING    ROOMS.    WHERE    FILMS    ARE    TRANS- 
FERRED FROM  THE  RACKS  TO  THE  HUGE  DRYING  DRUMS 


210  From  the  Camera  to  the  Screen 

goes  without  saying  that  the  drying  room  is  barred  to  dust  and 
dirt. 

Time  was  when  the  film  producer  had  to  depend  on  the  weather 
in  drying  his  films;  and  on  rainy  days  it  was  next  to  impossible 
for  him  to  make  any  headway.  He  decided,  at  last,  to  sever  all 
connections  with  the  weather  man ;  and  to-day  the  work  goes  on 
whether  it  is  wet  or  dry  outdoors.  For  the  drying  room  is  in 
reality  a  little  world  by  itself,  where  the  dryness  and  the  tem- 
perature are  regulated  by  the  mere  twist  of  an  electric  controller. 
Thousands  of  feet  of  film  can  be  dried  at  one  time  on  a  battery  of 
drying  drums,  and  this  method  prevents  the  film  from  developing 
troublesome  bends  or  twists. 

Drying,  however  carefully  it  is  done,  is  never  perfect;  that  is 
to  say,  the  film  always  comes  out  of  the  drying  room  with  numer- 
ous water  spots  which  are  generally  the  solid  matter  left  after 
the  water  evaporates.  To  remove  these  spots  the  dried  film  is 
passed  through  a  special  polishing  machine  in  which  an  arrange- 
ment of  soft  buffers  polishes  the  gelatine  and  the  celluloid 
sides  of  the  film.  Formerly,  this  polishing  phase  was  done  by 
girls,  using  their  soft  palms  for  the  purpose. 


WORKING    YEAR   AFTER   YEAR   IN    DARKNESS 

With  the  negative  in  its  finished  form,  we  are  ready  to  make 
positive  prints.  As  in  the  case  of  amateur  photography,  the  nega- 
tive film  shows  the  image  in  reversed  order,  with  the  whites  black 
and  the  blacks  in  white.  And  just  as  in  the  case  of  prints  on 
paper,  it  is  possible  to  make  any  number  of  prints  from  the  mo- 
tion-picture negative. 

Positive  stock  is  not  as  sensitive  to  light  as  the  negative  stock, 
hence  can  be  handled  in  a  room  provided  with  numerous  ruby  or 
orange  lamps,  as  compared  to  the  almost  total  darkness  of  the 
perforating  and  the  developing  rooms.  Still,  to  the  stranger 
the  room  is  uncomfortably  dark  when  it  comes  to  making  a  way 
through  the  maze  of  tables  and  benches  and  chairs  and  machines ; 
and  it  is  with  marked  surprise  that  he  notes  the  ease  with  which 
the  operatives  carry  on  their  work.  It  appears  that  these  work- 
ers, toiling  day  in  and  day  out  in  semi-darkness,  develop  their 
gyesight  to  a  point  where  they  can  see  almost  as  well  in  the  dim 


c 

o 
m 


o 


«o 

^« 

o  w 
>  s 

^^ 

w 
> 

o 
r 

o 


212  From  the  Camera  to  the  Screen 

red  light  as  they  can  at  twilight  outdoors.  In  any  event,  they 
appear  to  have  no  trouble  in  this  direction. 

The  negative  film  is  run  through  a  printing  machine  face  to 
face  with  positive  stock,  emulsion  sides  in  contact.  Each  time  a 
negative  image  comes  into  position  in  front  of  an  aperture,  a 
shutter  opens  and  allows  a  flash  of  light  to  pass  through  the 
aperture  and  the  negative  and  on  to  the  positive  stock  behind, 
after  which  the  two  films  are  pulled  down  the  space  of  one  picture 
so  as  to  bring  the  next  image  into  position.  Thus  the  printing 
operation  proceeds  one  picture  at  a  time  until  the  entire  negative 
is  run  off. 

That  method  is  known  as  the  step-by-step  method  of  printing. 
It  is  the  one  most  commonly  employed  for  commercial  work. 
But  there  is  another  method  known  as  the  continuous  method,  in 
which  case  the  negative  and  positive  films  are  moved  continu- 
ously past  a  source  of  light.  A  continuous  printer  is  far  less 
expensive  than  the  step-by-step  printer  with  its  elaborate  inter- 
mittent movement.  Yet  for  reasons  well  known  to  the  profession 
the  step-by-step  method  has  won  out  by  a  vast  majority. 

Now  if  negatives  were  all  of  one  density  the  printing  of  posi- 
tives would  be  a  simple  matter.  But  negatives  vary  to  a  large 
extent,  and  almost  every  one  requires  a  different  printing  time. 
So  the  preliminary  step  in  running  off  a  print  is  to  determine  the 
density  of  its  negative.  Some  laboratories  simply  run  off  a  foot 
or  two  on  the  printer  with  different  adjustments  of  light  and  then 
develop  the  strip  so  as  to  note  the  tones  and  select  the  proper  one. 
Other  laboratories  have  a  set  of  negative  films  of  varying  densi- 
ties, arranged  in  front  of  a  lamp.  By  comparing  any  negative 
with  the  standard  samples,  it  is  but  the  work  of  a  few  moments 
to  determine  the  printing  time.  In  either  case  the  density  of  the 
negative  is  obtained  and  marked  on  the  negative  roll;  in  this 
manner  the  girl  operators  at  the  printing  machines  know  how  to 
adjust  the  intensity  of  the  light  or  the  speed  of  the  printer  when 
the  film  comes  to  them. 

When  you  hear  a  film  man  speak  of  "dupes,"  make  sure  of  the 
kind  of  dupe  he  means.  Most  likely  he  has  in  mind  a  piece  of 
negative  film  obtained  not  by  exposure  in  the  camera  but  by 
contact  or  projection  from  a  positive  print,  often  the  sole  sur- 
vivor of  a  ruined  or  lost  negative. 


r 

>§ 


c! 
o 

H  > 


o  o 


2«' 
•^  o 


214  From  the  Camera  to  the  Screen 


As  previously  explained  in  this  chapter,  the  negative  film  shows 
in  white  those  parts  which  arc  to  appear  black  in  the  positive-. 
It  is  thus  obvious  that  if  by  copying  white  one  gets  black,  it  is 
just  as  easy  to  copy  black  and  get  white.  So  from  a  positive  it  is 
merely  a  matter  of  printing  to  produce  a  negative,  from  which 
any  number  of  positives  can  be  run  ofif. 

SMUGGLING  A  FILM   OVER  THE  BORDER  THROUGH   A  BEAM   OF  LIGHT 

An  interesting  case  of  film  printing  occurred  some  years  ago  in 
connection  with  certain  prize-fight  films  which  had  been  barred 
from  the  United  States.  The  promoters  of  the  films,  having  paid 
a  vast  sum  of  money  for  the  rights  to  film  the  big  event  in 
Havana,  Cuba,  were  greatly  disappointed  when  their  product 
was  denied  entrance  to  this  country.  It  meant  the  losing  of  the 
principal  market — it  threatened  to  make  their  venture  a  loss 
instead  of  a  gain. 

Then  the  producers  conceived  of  an  idea  whereby  the  law  could 
be  evaded.  They  would  not  bring  the  film  itself  into  the  United 
States.  They  would  merely  project  it  into  the  country  and  copy 
it  on  another  film. 

To  this  end  a  tent  was  erected  astride  the  boundary  between 
the  United  States  and  Canada.  In  Canada  a  special  projecting 
machine  was  erected,  and .  its  rays  were  focused  on  a  special 
printing  machine  several  feet  away,  but  in  the  United  States. 
Then  the  work  of  printing  the  film  got  under  way,  while  the 
promoters  prided  themselves  on  successfully  evading  the  customs 
officials  who  were  present  to  see  how  the  work  was  being  car- 
ried on. 

But  despite  the  ingenuity  shown  and  despite  the  fact  that  the 
film  was  not  being  imported  into  the  United  States  in  a  material 
sense,  the  officials  ruled  against  the  print  made  under  such  novel 
conditions. 

Anyone  who  has  made  prints  on  fast,  gaslight  papers  realizes 
how  important  are  the  light  intensity  and  the  printing  time  in  this 
kind  of  work.  And  he  can  therefore  appreciate  how  careful  must 
the  motion-picture  workers  be  to  maintain  a  constant  and  known 
intensity  of  light  in  their  printers,  and  a  flawless  mechanism.  In 
the  more  up-to-date  laboratories  eacTi  lamp  is  tested  daily  with  a 
photometer  to  ensure  standard  and  uniform  intensity. 


IN    SOME   STUDIOS    THE   DIRECTOR.    WHILE   VIEWING   THE   FILM   ON  THE 
SCREEN,   DICTATES   HIS   TITLES   AND  DIRECTIONS,    AND— 


216  From  the  Camera  to  the  Screen 

Like  other  industries  the  film  industry  has  secrets  of  its  own. 
It  makes  little  difference  whether  they  are  real  secrets  or  just 
''tours  de  main,"  for  either  way  the  fact  remains  that  there  are 
things  that  can  be  done  by  one  and  not  by  another.  Among  all 
the  film  operations  which  the  author  had  witnessed  up  to  the  time 
of  writing  the  present  chapter,  the  following  two  instances  made 
the  greatest  impression: 

He  happened  to  be  in  a  laboratory  one  morning  when  two  cans 
of  film  were  brought  there,  a  large  one  containing  various  rolls  of 
negative  film  and  a  smaller  can  in  which  was  a  piece  of  positive 
stock  to  be  duped,  the  negative  having  been  lost.  After  exam- 
ination it  was  found  that  the  negatives  in  the  large  can  were  all 
of  different  densities,  and,  moreover,  had  been  ruined  by  under- 
developing  and  overdeveloping  by  some  one  who  had  tried  to 
correct  bad  exposures  in  the  developing  tank,  without  having  the 
slightest  idea  what  he  was  doing.  The  piece  of  positive  print  for 
duping  proved  to  be  so  badly  overdeveloped  that  it  seemed 
a  hopeless  case  indeed. 

But  the  laboratory  expert  smiled.  '^Zat's  nothing;  nothing  at 
all!''  he  said;  "ii  you  will  only  stay  here  another  two  or  three 
hours,  I  shall  show  you  how  I  am  going  to  do  it."  The  author 
waited — and  was  well  rewarded.  For  the  positive  prints  were 
even  and  pleasing  to  the  eye  and  no  one  could  detect  the  good 
from  the  bad  parts  of  the  negative  from  which  they  were  made. 
Nor  could  one  distinguish  the  duped  piece  from  those  printed 
from  original  negatives.  Of  course,  this  was  the  work  of  a  mas- 
ter: such  services  make  it  possible  to  save  many  a  scene  which, 
owing  to  some  error  or  mishap  in  the  filming,  would  otherwise  be 
slated  for  a  retake. 

Positive  film  is  developed,  fixed  and  washed  much  after  the 
manner  of  the  negative  film,  after  which  it  is  dried  and  polished 
in  the  ways  already  described.  But  there  are  occasions  where  cer- 
tain strips  are  to  be  tinted  or  toned,  in  which  event  special  treat- 
ment is  required  before  the  final  operations. 

A  vast  difference  exists  between  tinting  and  toning,  although 
the  layman  usually  considers  these  terms  as  being  perfectly 
interchangeable.  Still,  tinting  has  to  do  with  making  the  gelatine 
of  the  positive  film  take  on  any  desired  color,  so  that  the  entire 
picture  appears  in  that  one  color  and  black.     Toning,  on  the 


-AN  ASSISTANT,  FOLLOWING  THE  PHONOGRAPHIC  DIRECTIONS,  INSERTS 
TITLES,  AND  MAKES  ALL  REQUIRED  CHANGES 


218  From  the  Camera  to  the  Screen 

other  hand,  has  to  do  with  converting  the  blacks  into  any  desired 
color,  but  leaves  the  high  lights  untouched  or  colorless.  By  com- 
bining the  tinting  and  toning  operations  many  beautiful  effects 
can  be  obtained,  such  as  tinting  the  film  a  light  amber  after 
toning  it  a  dark  blue.  Tinting  is  carried  on  with  dyes  which, 
during  the  great  war,  have  been  quite  scarce.  In  either  tinting 
or  toning  the  treatment  consists  of  dipping  the  film,  as  it  comes 
from  the  washing  tanks,  into  vats  of  coloring  matter,  and  remov- 
ing it  only  after  the  desired  shade  is  obtained,  after  which  it  is 
given  a  final  washing  or  rinsing. 

HOW    MOTION -PICTURE   TITLES   ARE   MADE 

Again  with  titles,  diversity  of  methods  is  by  no  means  lacking. 
Some  laboratories  prefer  to  print  the  copy  for  titles  on  plain 
pieces  of  paper,  in  bright  red  ink  or  black  ink,  thus  obtaining  a 
positive  of  soHd  black  with  the  letters  and  design  in  white.  In 
other  words,  the  copy  is  photographed  on  positive  stock  so  that 
no  printing  is  necessary,  as  many  feet  being  exposed  in  the 
camera  as  are  required.  This  method  is  known  as  titles  '4n 
camera"  or  direct  positives.  Another  method  is  to  print  the  titles 
in  white  on  black  paper,  thus  obtaining  copy  for  negative  film 
which  must  afterwards  be  printed  on  to  positive  stock.  In  either 
case  the  services  of  a  printer-compositor  are  required,  and  also  a 
skilled  pressman  who  can  secure  clean  and  perfect  impressions  on 
a  small  job  press.  For  with  the  magnification  to  which  motion- 
picture  titles  are  subjected,  poorly  jointed  rules,  bad  alignment, 
fuzzy  printing — all  these  things  are  exposed  in  exaggerated  form 
on  the  screen. 

It  is  well  to  add  that  the  type  faces  must  be  selected  with  care. 
Heavy  faces  of  type,  known  in  the  printing  trade  as  bold  face, 
:;re  generally  employed  for  the  reason  that  they  make  for  clear 
titles.  Type  with  hair  lines,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  constant 
source  of  trouble  in  title  making.  The  fine  lines,  if  slightly  over- 
exposed, fill  in  and  disappear  in  the  blackness  of  the  background, 
causing  a  chopped  up  and  unsatisfactory  screen  title.  Hence  the 
advisability  of  avoiding  the  so-called  '^old-style"  types  in  favor 
of  the  bold  faces. 

A  method  of  title  making  which  has  passed  out  of  favor  of  late 
is  to  lay  out  the  titles  with  movable  ornamental  borders  and 


220  From  the  Camera  to  the  Screen 

letters  on  a  flat  background  of  black  plush,  with  the  camera 
pointing  straight  down  from  an  overhead  stand.  This  scheme,  of 
course,  has  to  recommend  it  the  ease  with  which  titles  can  be 
arranged  even  by  an  inexperienced  person.  But  American  pro- 
ducers almost  invariably  use  the  so-called  "card  system"  already 
described,  for  the  reason  that  the  printed  titles  produce  good, 
clean-cut  titles  on  the  screen,  while  the  cards  can  be  filed  and 
rephotographed  at  any  time. 

Some  producers  photograph  their  titles  directly  on  small  glass 
plates,  which  are  then  used  in  the  printing  machines  for  running 
off  the  required  footage  of  positive  film.  This  method  has  in  its 
favor  the  comparatively  slight  cost  of  the  glass  plate  as  compared 
to  a  long  strip  of  negative  film;  in  fact,  such  a  system  makes 
possible  the  saving  of  thousands  of  feet  of  negative  film  a 
year. 

Practically  all  feature  films  to-day  make  use  of  highly  orna- 
mental titles  with  elaborate  hand-lettering.  A  motif  is  included 
in  the  border  or  subdued  background  of  the  principal  sub-titles, 
for  the  purpose  of  carrying  a  certain  thought  along  with  the 
wording  of  the  title,  as  well  as  to  carry  the  eye  over  the  changes 
from  picture  to  title  and  back  to  picture.  The  last-mentioned 
factor  is  most  important.  Formerly,  when  next  to  no  attention 
was  paid  to  eye  fatigue  in  the  production  of  pictures,  a  bright 
scene  would  suddenly  give  way  to  a  black  title,  only  to  flash  back 
to  the  said  bright  scene.  The  eye,  under  such  circumstances, 
received  a  severe  jolt  or  strain;  and  when  this  effect  was  multi- 
plied many  times  in  the  course  of  a  performance  the  audience 
experienced  severe  eye  strain. 

The  more  progressive  producers  have  given  due  thought  and 
attention  to  eye  fatigue.  As  a  result  the  titles  are  now  being 
prepared  with  a  view  to  carrying  the  audience  over  from  one 
scene  to  a  title  and  back  again  with  the  minimum  variation  in 
light.  And  to  this  end  the  title  with  a  picture  background  or 
motif  is  ideal,  because  it  lends  itself  to  any  treatment  as  regards 
shade.  One  producer  makes  use  of  a  black  panel  which  carries 
the  title,  while  the  border  contains  the  motif  and  the  required 
shade. 


THE  FILM  IS  STORED  IN  THE  FIRE-PROOF  VAULTS  OF  THE  STUDIO  UNTIL 
IT  LEAVES  FOR  THE  CIRCUIT  OF  THEATERS 


222  From  the  Camera  to  the  Screen 


ASSEMBLING   SCENES   AND   TITLES   INTO   FILMS 

By  this  time  small  rolls  of  positive  film  containing  anywhere 
from  several  feet  to  several  hundred  feet  have  made  their  way 
to  the  assembling  or  cutting  room,  where  they  are  ready  to  be 
examined  and  cut  and  assembled  into  finished  productions.  Al- 
though it  is  not  generally  known  to  the  public,  we  never  see  but 
the  abridged  film  of  any  given  production;  that  is  to  say,  the 
average  five-reeler  is  actually  made  up  from  ten  thousand  or 
more  feet  of  film,  trimmed  down  to  five  thousand.  Many  scenes 
have  to  be  retaken  and  many  are  found  unnecessary  to  the  story 
when  examined  on  the  screen.  Furthermore,  every  scene  as 
taken  can  usually  stand  some  cutting;  in  fact,  it  is  the  clever 
cutting  of  the  scenes  which  makes  a  successful  photoplay  so 
direct  and  appealing. 

The  footage  thrown  out  in  cutting  a  production  is  not  neces- 
sarily wasted.  Many  a  progressive  producer  makes  good  use  of 
these  cuttings  in  subsequent  photoplays,  either  running  them  in 
as  scenes  of  a  new  photoplay,  or  working  the  cuttings  themselves 
into  a  production  based  entirely  on  them.  Thus  there  are  releases 
issued  of  famous  actors  long  after  they  have  left  a  certain  com- 
pany. The  public  is  told  that  these  releases  are  positively  new. 
Cuttings  are  the  answer  to  this  mystery.  The  film  company  has 
merely  looked  over  its  collection  of  cuttings  and  by  no  mean 
ingenuity  has  constructed  some  sort  of  photoplay  from  the  odds- 
and-ends  of  former  action. 

Editing  a  film  is  perhaps  the  most  interesting  phase  of  moving- 
picture  work.  The  editor,  usually  the  director  himself  in  the  case 
of  dramatic  and  comedy  productions,  directs  the  cutting  and  as- 
sembling of  the  various  strips  of  film  into  the  complete  produc- 
tion; and  just  as  the  editor  of  a  magazine  reads  the  printer's 
proofs  and  makes  his  corrections,  so  does  the  film  editor  view  the 
assembled  film  on  the  screen  and  make  corrections  and  changes. 
Finally,  when  the  film  is  approved  of,  it  is  employed  as  a  standard 
for  the  assembly  of  duplicate  films  by  skilled  assemblers. 

Packed  in  round  cans  the  film  reels  find  their  way  to  the  ex- 
changes throughout  the  world,  and  from  the  exchanges  they  make 
their  way  to  the  projectors  in  thousands  of  motion-picture  the- 
aters, there  to  entertain  the  millions  of  devotees  of  the  screen. 


CHAPTER   XI, 


REPORTERS  OF  THE  SCREEN 


irr^IlE  PUBLIC  does  not  depend  wholly  on  the 
I  newspapers  for  its  news.  It  also  looks  to  the  screen 
■^  for  its  information.  A  given  event  is  first  reported 
in  the  newspapers,  thanks  to  the  rapidity  of  the  modern 
means  of  news  gathering,  with  such  space  annihilators  as 
the  telegraph,  cable,  and  wireless.  But  a  few  days  or  a 
week  or  two  later,  the  same  event  is  pictor tally  reported  on 
the  screen.  The  lifeless  words  of  the  printed  newspaper 
are  eclipsed  by  the  animated  report  of  the  screen  news; 
in  fact,  it  is  virtually  the  same  as  if  the  audience  were 
actually  carried  to  the  scene  of  the  event  in  question.  It 
is  the  curiosity  of  seeing  what  one  has  already  read  that 
makes  the  news  films  so  popular. 


224  Reporters  of  the  Screen 

WITH  the  advent  of  the  newspaper-on-the-screen  and  the 
magazine-on-the-screen  kinds  of  film,  the  screen  reporter 
came  into  his  own.  There  was  Httle  if  any  need  for  him 
so  long  as  the  screen  only  presented  dramas  and  comedies,  in- 
dustrial and  travel  pictures,  his  only  contribution  being  an  oc- 
casional collection  of  foreign  views  or  the  pictorial  story  of  some 
industry.  But  when  the  American  public  began  to  lose  interest 
in  motion  pictures  some  years  ago,  w^hen  motion-picture  men 
really  began  to  wonder  if,  after  all,  theirs  was  but  a  temporary 
industry  or  a  novelty,  among  other  changes  and  improvements 
and  innovations  the  screen  newspaper  or  "weekly"  film  made  its 
initial  bow.    And  the  public  took  to  it  from  the  very  start. 

The  screen  "weekly"  called  for  an  army  of  intrepid  cameramen 
— men  who  not  only  understood  the  essentials  of  cinematography, 
but  knew  how  to  tell  a  story  in  pictures.  For  it  was  appreciated 
early  in  the  game  that  it  is  quite  one  thing  to  know  how  to  tell  a 
story  in  words,  and  quite  another  to  tell  it  in  photographs.  But 
the  men  were  found;  and  they  grew  with  the  newspaper-on-the- 
screen  idea,  learning  week  by  week  how  to  produce  better  pictorial 
newspapers. 

More  recently  the  magazine-on-the-screen  type  of  film  has 
come  into  being,  extending  the  field  of  the  screen  reporters  to 
subjects  other  than  those  of  passing  interest.  In  fact,  the  latest 
class  of  film  calls  for  the  "writer"  type  of  cameraman  who  can 
dig  deep  into  any  given  subject,  sift  out  the  really  interesting 
features  and  then  treat  them  pictorially  so  that  they  will  be  un- 
derstandable and  interesting  to  his  audience.  Like  the  "weekly" 
film  reporters,  the  magazine-on-the-screen  men  have  grown  with 
their  product.  To-day  they  are  turning  out  an  animated  maga- 
zine which  is  not  only  enjoyed  but  even  sought  by  an  interested 
army  of  screen  devotees. 

"their's  not  to  reason  why;  their^s  but  to    .    .    ." 

Like  the  newspaper  man,  the  screen  reporter  is  sent  out  on 
certain  "assignments"  to  "cover"  a  given  event.  For  instance,  one 
day  he  may  be  detailed  to  an  incoming  ship  on  which  is  a  famous 
opera  singer;  the  next  day  he  may  be  sent  out  to  the  wilds  of 
New  Jersey's  coast  line  to  film  a  wrecked  steamer  being  pounded 
to  bits  by  an  angry  surf;  the  third  day  he  may  be  called  upon  to 


IN    THESE   DAYS    OF   SCREEN   NEWSPAPERS,    THE    SCREEN    REPORTER    IS 
ALWAYS  TO  BE  FOUND  WHERE  SOMETHING  IS  HAPPENING 


226  Reporters  of  the  Screen 

film  a  parade;  and  the  fourth  he  may  be  told  to  attend  a  demon- 
stration of  a  new  automobile.  By  co-operative  agreement  with 
some  newspapers,  the  editor  of  a  screen  weekly  is  kept  in  touch 
with  all  that  is  going  on  in  this  world  of  ours;  and  it  is  for  him 
to  decide  what  to  ''cover"  and  what  to  disregard. 

Generally,  the  editor  of  a  screen  weekly  is  an  old-time  news- 
paper man ;  for  above  all  else  he  must  have  a  keen  sense  of  news 
and  know  how  to  appeal  to  his  audience  numbering  in  the  mil- 
lions. Again,  he  must  know  not  a  little  about  the  possibilities  and 
the  limitations  of  motion  pictures;  for  his  is  the  task  of  telling 
his  stories  with  short  titles  and  animated  pictures  rather  than 
with  columns  of  type.  Lastly,  he  must  be  a  good  executive;  for 
he  is  required  not  only  to  handle  2  large  staff  of  men  under  his 
immediate  orders,  but  also  to  keep  in  touch  with  correspondents 
throughout  the  world.    All  of  which  requires  a  really  big  man. 

When  a  certain  event  is  to  take  place,  the  editor  details  or  as- 
signs one  of  his  photographers  to  cover  it.  If  the  event  is  un- 
usually important,  two  or  more  cameramen  are  assigned,  but 
that  is  only  in  very  rare  cases.  As  a  general  thing  a  single 
cameraman  is  counted  upon  to  get  about  the  scene  of  action  and 
secure  sufficient  views  from  all  angles  to  tell  the  story. 

In  the  screen  cameraman's  vocabulary,  the  word  "can't"  is 
strikingly  conspicuous  by  its  absence.  He  simply  has  no  use  for 
that  word,  because  it  is  not  understood  in  his  line  of  business. 
When  he  is  assigned  to  cover  a  certain  event,  he  goes  about  his 
task  with  the  determination  to  get  the  coveted  pictures  no  matter 
what  the  obstacles  may  be.  He  knows  that  his  job  depends  upon 
it;  and  he  acts  accordingly. 

WHEN   IMPOSSIBLE  PHOTOGRAPHIC   CONDITIONS  BECOME  POSSIBLE 

It  is  interesting  to  contrast  the  "news"  photographer  with  his 
brother  working  in  the  studio  or  with  a  company  in  the  field. 
The  latter,  to  begin  with,  has  all  the  equipment  he  requires 
because  facihties  are  near  at  hand.  His  subject  is  arranged  to 
please  his  fancy :  the  players  and  scenery  are  painted  and  illumi- 
nated so  as  to  photograph  properly,  and  only  when  they  are  so  is 
the  cameraman  obliged  to  start  cranking.  And  supposing  the 
film  is  not  quite  up  to  standard  or  supposing  he  desires  to  photo- 
graph the  scene  twice  in  order  to  make  sure  of  his  results,  there 


RAIN,     SNOW,     DARKNESS— NO     MATTER     WHAT     THE     CONDITIONS,     THE 
SCREEN    REPORTERS    MUST    GET    THEIR    PICTORIAL    STORIES 


228  Reporters  of  the  Screen 

is  nothing  to  prevent  him  from  asking  the  director  to  repeat  the 
entire  performance  for  a  '^retake."  Indeed,  everything  is  done 
for  the  cameraman  in  the  conventional  drama  or  comedy  film, 
for  the  reason  that  everything  depends  on  good  photography  as  a 
first  consideration. 

Now  let  us  take  up  the  case  of  the  screen  reporter.  He  goes 
to  cover  an  event.  The  day  is  dark,  with  occasional  showers; 
but  needless  to  say  the  event  will  take  place  no  matter  what  the 
weather  may  be,  and  the  world  is  not  going  to  halt  so  that  he  may 
take  advantage  of  better  light.  His  first  difficulty,  then,  is  that 
he  must  contend  with  the  poorest  photographic  conditions. 

Arriving  on  the  scene,  he  must  make  his  way  through  crowds 
and  other  obstacles  and  secure  a  position  of  vantage.  Naturally, 
there  is  no  telling  just  how  the  subject  may  be  when  the  moment 
arrives  as  in  the  case  of  a  parade  or  similar  event,  and  often  he 
finds  himself  "high  and  dry"  when  the  moment  of  action  ar- 
rives. In  such  event  he  must  hurry  with  his  bulky  apparatus 
to  some  other  suitable  location,  set  up  his  camera  and  grind  a 
few  feet  of  film. 

Speed  is  the  very  essence  of  success  in  film  reporting.  An  event 
takes  place  so  quickly  that  the  cameraman  must  act  swiftly  and 
positively.  If  he  has  not  selected  the  proper  location  in  the  first 
place,  he  must  quickly  size  up  the  situation  and  dash  off  to  a 
more  favorable  spot  before  it  is  too  late.  And  even  if  he  is  for- 
tunate enough  to  secure  a  good  position  to  begin  with,  there  are 
generally  other  views  required,  such  as  details  or  close-ups  of  the 
event  calling  for  speed  and  good  judgment. 

Above  all,  be  it  remembered  that  he  must  "get  it"  the  first 
time.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  "retake"  in  screen  reporting. 
It's  either  a  case  of  getting  it  the  first  time  or  losing  it;  and  to 
lose  it  means  one  more  cameraman  without  a  job. 

A  REPORTER  WHO   TELLS   HIS   STORY   WITH   PICTURES 

The  regular  newspaper  reporter,  to  be  sure,  also  has  to  "come 
home  with  the  bacon."  But  how  much  easier  it  is  in  his  case! 
He  can  go  about  the  scene  gathering  his  facts  from  any  number 
of  persons ;  and  even  if  he  is  somewhat  tardy  in  getting  about  he 
can  depend  upon  his  fellow  reporters  to  supply  him  with  the 
necessary  facts  from  which  he  can  weave  an  interesting  story.    In 


IF   AN    EVENT   IS    AT   ALL   WORTH   NOTICING,   IT   IS    BOUND    TO   DRAW  A 
CROWD  OF  MOVING-PICTURE  CAMERAMEN 


230  Reporters  of  the  Screen 

fact,  he  can  even  improvise  where  necessary ;  and  surely  it  is  not 
betraying  any  confidence  to  say  here  that  such  practice  is  by  no 
means  rare  in  American  journahsm. 

But  with  the  screen  reporter  it  is  a  matter  of  reporting  the  real 
thing:  there  can  be  no  substitutes. 

What  to  photograph  and  what  not  to  photograph  is  largely  a 
matter  of  practice  or  experience.  At  first  the  cameraman  is  bound 
to  film  many  unimportant  features  and  occasionally  leave  out 
some  salient  one;  but  with  increasing  familiarity  with  his  work, 
the  telling  of  a  story  becomes  a  sort  of  second  nature.  Skilled 
screen  reporters  have  acquired  the  knack  of  sizing  up  any  given 
event,  getting  a  general  view  of  the  entire  scene  and  then  going 
straight  for  the  features  that  require  special  treatment.  Nat- 
urally, the  cameraman  is  at  the  same  time  the  director,  for  there 
is  no  one  to  guide  him  in  his  work. 

Take  a  typical  instance,  the  inauguration  of  the  airplane  mail 
service  between  Belmont  Park,  N.  Y.,  and  Washington,  D.  C. 
The  first  thing  a  trained  cameraman  would  do  would  be  to  secure 
a  general  view  of  the  airplane  used,  including  some  action  such  as 
the  mechanics  walking  about  and  inspecting  the  various  parts. 
Next,  he  would  ask  the  authorities  to  stage  some  suitable  action, 
such  as  the  handing  of  the  mail  bags  to  the  aviator,  and  the 
aviator  or  his  assistants  placing  them  in  the  mail  compartment. 
If  no  mail  bags  were  yet  on  hand,  dummy  bags  or  anything  re- 
sembling a  mail  bag  would  be  used.  Then  he  would  secure  some 
human  interest  snapshots,  such  as  the  aviator  receiving  a  good 
luck  horseshoe  from  some  foreign  aviation  officer,  the  strapping 
of  a  map  to  the  aviator's  knee,  or  the  wife  of  the  aviator  af- 
fectionately bidding  him  good-bye.  Lastly,  the  cameraman 
would  determine  the  probable  direction  of  flight  and  place  his 
camera  so  as  to  obtain  a  view  of  the  airplane  running  along  the 
ground  and  taking  the  air. 

Another  case  is  perhaps  of  equal  interest,  namely,  the  filming 
of  the  unearthing  of  historic  remains.  We  have  in  mind  the 
remains  of  a  Hessian  camp  on  the  eastern  slope  of  Inwood  Hill, 
at  the  northern  end  of  Manhattan  Island,  New  York  City.  The 
first  thing  the  cameraman  would  probably  do  would  be  to  take 
a  panorama  of  the  eastern  slope  of  Inwood  Hill,  showing  the 
various  holes  where  digging  has  been  done.    Next,  he  would  show 


232  Reporters  of  the  Screen 

the  diggers  at  work  with  exploring  rod,  pick  and  shovel,  and 
sieve,  with  a  close-up  view,  perhaps,  of  what  remained  in  the 
sieve  after  sifting  a  lucky  batch  of  earth  and  stones.  Then  he 
would  show  the  men  at  work  on  a  reconstructed  Hessian  hut, 
finally  turning  his  lens  to  a  close-up  view  of  the  man  who  di- 
rected the  undertaking. 

So  it  goes  with  other  subjects.  The  general  order  is  always 
about  the  same:  first,  the  general  subject,  and  then  the  details; 
or,  to  put  it  another  way,  first  the  "where,"  then  the  "how," 
and  finally  the  "why."  It  is  generally  considered  good  pohcy 
to  take  more  film  than  is  to  be  used,  leaving  the  matter  of  cutting 
or  editing  to  the  editor. 

TOOLS   OF  THE   CAMERAMAN 

Any  kind  of  camera  is  available  for  "news"  reporting,  although 
as  a  rule  the  heavier  types  of  cameras  are  religiously  avoided  in 
favor  of  the  smaller  and  lighter  varieties.  The  tripods,  too,  are 
of  the  lightest  and  most  compact  design,  so  as  to  facilitate  travel- 
ing. Some  cameramen  have  an  assistant  who  carries  the  tripod, 
but  the  less  fortunate  ones  have  to  work  alone,  in  which  event 
they  get  along  with  the  smallest  kind  of  camera  and  with  a  tripod 
that  packs  to  less  than  four  feet. 

Under  the  adverse  conditions  encountered  in  filming  many 
happenings,  the  conventional  hand-cranked  camera  leaves  much 
to  be  desired.  It  is  clumsy  in  the  extreme,  and  much  action  is 
lost  in  shifting  it  about.  Hence  it  is  not  surprising  that  inventors 
have  been  at  work  on  the  problem  of  evolving  a  better  camera 
for  so-called  "topical"  work,  and  among  the  results  have  been 
several  types  of  hand  cameras  which  do  not  require  a  rigid  tripod 
support,  thanks  to  automatic  driving  means  and  gyroscopic  sta- 
bilizers. Some  of  these  cameras  operate  from  a  portable  storage 
battery,  and  are  held  firmly  by  two  handles.  Another  type  com- 
prises a  number  of  compressed-air  flasks  and  a  pneumatic  motor 
which  replace  the  hand  crank,  as  well  as  a  gyroscopic  arrange- 
ment for  maintaining  the  camera  on  an  even  plane. 

The  advantage  of  such  hand  cameras  can  well  be  imagined, 
for  they  place  motion-picture  photography  on  the  same  level  as 
regular  photography.  Films  can  be  exposed  while  holding  the 
camera  high  above  the  heads  in  a  crowd,  or  when  the  photog- 


SCREEN    REPORTERS    USE    THE    LIGHTEST    AND    MOST    COMPACT    PARA- 
PHERNALIA IN  THEIR  WORK   AFIELD 


234  Reporters  of  the  Screen 


rapher  is  in  the  most  hazardous  positions.  In  fact,  there  does 
not  seem  to  be  any  Hmit  to  motion  pictures  once  the  tripod  is 
shed,  as  it  is  in  the  case  of  these  special  cameras. 

The  name  of  "pirate  camera"  has  been  associated  with  some  of 
the  tripod-less  instruments,  and  for  good  reason.  The  following 
stories  ought  to  make  clear  the  meaning  of  piracy  as  applied  to 
motion  pictures : 

THE   REAL    PIRATE   OF    THE    SCREEN 

When  screen  newspapers  were  still  new  and  the  competition 
was  keener  than  it  is  at  present,  competing  "weekhes"  vied  with 
each  other  in  obtaining  exclusive  rights  for  filming  certain  events. 
Thus  important  ball  games  and  other  athletic  events  were  con- 
tracted for  by  one  or  the  other  of  the  "weeklies,"  and  the  man- 
agers turned  over  the  film  rights  to  that  company  in  consideration 
of  a  fair  sum  of  money. 

It  was  usually  left  to  the  film  company  to  defend  its  rights  to 
the  event.  Which  meant  that  precautionary  methods  had  to  be 
followed  to  make  certain  that  competing  concerns  did  not  secure 
the  coveted  views,  thus  making  the  "exclusive"  rights  nothing  but 
a  name  or,  to  use  a  well-known  term,  a  mere  "scrap  of  paper." 

Such  a  case  was  a  big  ball  game  played  in  New  York  City. 
One  of  the  "weeklies"  paid  a  big  price  for  the  exclusive  film  rights, 
and  immediately  set  to  work  organizing  a  pseudo-detective  force 
to  guard  its  rights  when  the  day  arrived.  Everyone  entering  the 
ball  grounds  was  carefully  scrutinized,  for  word  had  been  received 
that  one  of  the  rival  concerns  had  recently  acquired  from  France 
a  number  of  hand  type  or  "pirate"  cameras,  which  might  readily 
be  smuggled  into  the  grounds. 

The  game  started;  and  meantime  the  would-be  detectives  of 
the  film  company  mounted  guard.  It  was  a  warm  day,  so  that 
a  heavy,  bulky  blanket  on  the  lap  of  a  spectator  sitting  in  one 
of  the  front  seats  soon  attracted  the  attention  of  one  of  the  film 
men.  He  decided  to  risk  a  quarrel,  for  he  felt  that  there  might 
be  a  camera  hidden  in  that  heavy  blanket;  at  any  rate,  there  was 
no  reason  for  carrying  a  blanket  on  a  day  like  this.  A  few  mo- 
ments later  he  was  confronting  the  suspicious  one,  and  unwrap- 
ping the  blanket  before  the  latter  knew  what  was  happening. 
The   amateur  detective's   guess  was   quite   correct:    a   "pirate" 


236  Reporters  of  the  Screen 

camera  was  brought  to  view,  and  the  first  attempt  to  "steal" 
the  game  was  foiled. 

But  luck  was  not  with  the  film  company  holding  the  exclusive 
rights  to  the  game.  Elsewhere  a  ''pirate"  camera  was  at  work, 
hidden  inside  a  large  press  camera  of  the  reflecting  type  then  so 
much  in  vogue  among  press  photographers.  By  pressing  a  button 
and  starting  the  pneumatic  motor,  the  competing  cameraman 
secured  all  the  views  he  desired.  And  the  first  time  the  legitimate 
film  company  knew  of  the  piracy  was  when  they  saw  the  pirate 
film  on  a  Broadway  screen,  24  hours  ahead  of  their  own  release ! 

However,  the  story  reads  like  a  novel,  for  the  villain  of  the 
piece  is  punished  good  and  proper  in  due  course.  It  happened 
some  time  later,  when  the  second  company,  which  had  succeeded 
in  pirating  the  big  ball  game,  tried  its  hand  at  exclusive  rights 
by  contracting  for  a  momentous  ball  game  in  Brooklyn,  at  a 
field  overlooked  by  a  row  of  tall  flat  houses. 

Now  the  first  company  was  intent  on  getting  scenes  of  this 
game,  and  consequently  dispatched  a  cameraman  and  a  few  as- 
sistants to  one  of  the  flat  houses  overlooking  the  enclosed  field. 
Everything  went  well — until  the  cameraman  in  the  ball  grounds 
suddenly  espied  his  rival  grinding  away  on  the  flat-house  roof  a 
block  away.  With  rare  presence  of  mind  he  gave  a  pocket  mirror 
to  his  assistant,  with  the  orders  that  he  flash  a  reflected  ray  of 
sunlight  into  the  rival's  lens.  This  was  immediately  done;  and 
to  the  dismay  of  the  pirate  cameraman  he  had  to  give  up  crank- 
ing. Try  as  he  would  he  was  unable  to  avoid  the  beam  of  sun- 
light which  followed  him  about.  He  tried  sun  shades  and  even 
shifted  his  position,  but  every  time  the  sinister  beam  got  through 
to  his  lens. 

"Why  not  come  back  at  this  fellow,"  he  thought.  So  he  dis- 
patched one  of  his  assistants  downstairs  in  search  of  a  mirror. 
The  first  call  was  on  a  benevolent  old  lady  on  the  top  floor,  who 
soon  understood  the  situation  and  helped  out  with  her  husband's 
shaving  mirror.  The  triumphant  assistant  returned  to  the  roof 
and  soon  was  shining  a  beam  of  sunlight  into  the  lens  of  the 
cameraman  in  the  field,  who  stopped  short.  Perhaps  he  cursed 
long  and  loudly,  but  he  was  too  far  away  to  be  heard. 

He  too  tried  to  avoid  the  troublesome  beam,  but  with  no  suc- 
cess; for  the  mirror  manipulator  on  the  roof  had  plenty  of  room 


FILM    CONTAINERS    AND    PRINTING    MACHINES    WHICH    FIGURE    IN    THE 
"PRINTING"    OF  THE  SCREEN  NEWSPAPER 


238  Beporters  of  the  Screen 

in  which  to  maneuver  and  place  his  spot  of  Ught  in  almost  any 
part  of  the  field  from  which  suitable  views  could  be  "shot." 

Precious  minutes  were  being  wasted.  The  cameraman  below 
soon  saw  the  futility  of  this  mirror  battle  and  decided  to  sur- 
render. With  a  wave  of  his  hand  signifying  unconditional  sur- 
render, he  made  his  assistant  stop  shining  the  mirror.  The  man 
on  the  roof  did  likewise.  Both  sides  resumed  their  interrupted 
grinding.  And  the  first  company — the  one  which  had  been  on 
the  roof — secured  just  the  pictures  it  wanted  to  the  dismay  of  the 
original  pirate  concern. 

The  activities  of  film  pirates  soon  made  it  unwise  to  contract 
for  exclusive  film  rights  at  exhorbitant  figures;  and  the  practice 
has  long  since  ceased.  Nowadays  all  film  companies  participate 
in  the  general  run  of  events  and  count  on  winning  out  by  getting 
their  pictures  first  before  the  public,  or  estabhshing  what  is 
called  a  "scoop"  in  newspaperdom. 

Nothing  is  more  perishable  than  news  films.  They  must  be 
rushed  through  the  developing  and  printing  processes  in  order  to 
reach  the  screen  in  record  time.  Some  remarkably  fast  time  has 
been  made,  such  as  the  filming  of  important  boat  races  in  the 
afternoon,  the  developing  and  printing  of  the  film  while  en  route, 
and  its  exhibition  on  the  screen  75  miles  away  that  night. 

WITH    A   VIEW    TO    THE    FUTURE 

Not  only  has  the  cameraman  his  assignment  in  view,  but  he 
also  keeps  one  eye  open  for  any  possible  scenes  which  may  be 
available  in  future  productions.  Thus,  if  on  his  way  to  an  as- 
signment, he  comes  across  an  important  fire,  he  may  stop  if  time 
permits  in  order  to  film  a  hundred  feet  or  so.  Again,  if  he  hap- 
pens to  come  across  an  important  racing  meet,  he  may  film  many 
scenes  not  required  for  the  weekly  in  order  to  secure  "stock"  for 
his  firm.  Indeed,  it  is  these  very  "stock"  films  which  often  furnish 
an  idea  for  a  feature  production.  We  have  in  mind  a  series  of 
excellent  views  of  a  big  race  down  in  Kentucky,  which  furnished 
the  theme  for  a  five-reel  production  which  was  made  two  years 
later.  It  is  for  the  director  of  a  company  of  players  to  decide 
just  how  he  can  work  the  "stock"  material  into  his  pictures  so 
that  dove-tail  continuity  will  result. 

With  the  introduction  of  the  magazine-on-the-screen  class  of 


W 

w 

S^ 
^^ 
^« 

H  O 

r  w 
^  > 

o  > 

'TO 

O  SI 

^  H 
O  W 
<^^ 

o  t?j 
M  O 


w  o 

ii 

Q  ^ 


240  Reporters  of  the  Screen 

film  the  field  of  the  cameraman  has  been  widely  extended.  As  far 
as  difficulties  are  concerned,  subjects  for  the  "magazine"  film  are 
perhaps  easier  to  obtain  for  the  reason  that  haste  is  not  an  essen- 
tial factor.  The  cameraman  can  go  about  his  work  with  plenty 
of  time  to  spare,  so  long  as  he  tells  his  story  properly.  It  is 
simply  a  repetition  of  the  newspaper  man  and  the  magazine 
writer:  the  former  must  hustle  about  to  get  his  story  in  on  time, 
while  the  latter,  while  more  leisurely  in  his  work,  must  be  more 
thorough  and  more  painstaking. 

Both  the  screen  "newspaper"  and  "magazine"  have  their  cor- 
respondents scattered  throughout  the  world.  These  correspond- 
ents are  generally  local  photographers  or  amateurs  who  have 
taken  a  liking  to  motion  pictures  and  have  purchased  a  complete 
outfit.  They  take  pictures  of  local  happenings  and  things  of 
wide  interest,  both  on  their  own  initiative  and  on  telegraphic  or- 
der from  film  editors.  The  exposed  film  is  usually  forwarded  to 
the  film  editor  in  the  undeveloped  state,  and  is  rushed  through 
the  developing  room  and  drying  room  so  that  the  negative  can  be 
examined  with  a  view  to  purchasing  it.  Accepted  film  is  paid  for 
at  rates  varying  from  thirty-five  cents  to  one  dollar  per  foot, 
depending  upon  its  importance  and  timeliness.  Obviously,  lead- 
ing "news"  events  command  the  highest  rates. 

The  out-of-town  correspondent  is  as  indispensable  to  the  film 
editor  as  the  contributor  is  to  the  magazine  editor.  For  no  matter 
how  big  one's  organization  may  be,  it  is  simply  impracticable  and 
impossible  to  cover  this  whole  wide  world  at  all  times.  So  local 
happenings  in  remote  sections  are  left  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
"free  lance"  photographers  who  are  only  too  anxious  to  make  the 
most  of  every  opportunity  which  may  mean  a  sale  of  film. 

The  "newspaper"  and  "magazine"  films  are  only  in  their  in- 
fancy. There  is  in  store  for  both  of  them  a  future  equally  as 
brilliant  as  that  of  the  other  films  in  which  tears  and  laughter 
and  intrigue  are  pledged  to  our  entertainment. 


CHAPTER   XII. 


PUTTING  IT  ON  THE  SCREEN 


r  W  yHE  FINAL  LINK  in  the  motion-picture  process 
i  is  the  operator  in  the  theatre.  Equipped  with  a  pro- 
jector  and  several  reels  of  film  comprising  the  day's 
""program,'^  the  operator  is  the  whole  company  in  a 
motion-picture  performance.  Upon  him  rests  the  success 
of  a  photoplay;  for,  even  if  the  producer  has  turned  over  to 
him  the  very  best  feature  that  can  be  made,  the  operator  can 
ruin  it  before  the  eyes  of  his  audience  by  faulty  projec- 
tion. And  there  is  much  to  be  learned  about  projecting 
pictures.  The  skilled  operator  must  understand  his  work 
thoroughly,  and  be  a  more  or  less  handy  man  with  tools. 
He  must  be  conscientious;  for  hundreds  and  thousands 
of  dollars*  worth  of  films  pass  through  his  hands  every 
working  week — films  which  must  go  on  to  other  theatres 
before  they  have  served  their  full  purpose.  So  here  is  an 
opportunity  of  giving  due  credit  to  the  last  link  in  the 
motion-picture  business — the  operator. 


242 Putting  It  On  the  Screen  

THE    final   destination   of   all   motion-picture   film   is   the 
projecting  machine.     For   it  is  in  passing  through  the 
projector  that  the  film  is  transferred  to  the  screen,  where 
it  can  be  seen  and  enjoyed  by  the  miUions  of  film  devotees. 

And  the  operator  of  the  projecting  machine  is  the  final  man  in 
tlie  film  industry,  occupying  a  position  somewhat  similar  to  that 
of  the  salesman  in  business.  Both  stand  between  the  manufac- 
turer and  the  consumer.  But  there  is  this  vital  difference:  the 
salesman  passes  the  product  to  the  consumer  as  it  is ;  the  operator 
takes  the  product  and  handles  it  in  such  a  manner  that  it  may  be 
excellent  or  poor.  The  best  photoplay  ever  produced  can  be 
ruined  before  the  eyes  of  the  audience.  So,  in  the  final  reckoning, 
the  operator  is  as  important  as  other  links  in  the  film  chain;  and 
cver>^  producer  is  at  the  mercy  of  the  operator  who  handles  his 
film,  and  the  projector  employed  in  projecting  it. 

THE    MOTION -PICTURE    CAMERA   REVERSED 

Although  the  motion-picture  pioneers  in  many  instances  made 
use  of  their  camera  for  projection  purposes,  that  does  not  mean 
to  say  that  the  camera  is  ideal  for  the  purpose.  Indeed,  while  the 
projector  and  the  camera  may  have  much  in  common,  their  re- 
spective functions  are  sufficiently  different  to  require  a  wide 
divergence  in  design.  In  each  case,  of  course,  the  intermittent 
movement  is  used  for  the  film;  each  image  is  brought  into  posi- 
tion behind  the  lens,  a  shutter  opens  and  then  closes,  and  the  film 
is  shifted  to  the  next  image,  and  so  on.  In  the  camera  the  shutter 
is  behind  the  lens,  while  in  the  projector  it  is  usually  in  front  of 
the  lens.  In  one  case  the  virgin  film  is  exposed,  while  in  the 
other  the  finished  film  is  thrown  up  on  the  screen  in  greatly 
magnified  form. 

The  modern  projector  consists  essentially  of  a  feed  reel  maga- 
zine or  upper  magazine,  a  take-up  reel  magazine  or  lower  maga- 
zine, a  film  gate  and  lens  system,  a  revolving  shutter,  a  powerful 
source  of  light,  an  intermittent  movement,  and  the  film  sprockets, 
idlers,  presser  rollers,  springs,  belts,  pulleys  and  other  accessories. 

Feeding  out  of  the  top  fireproof  magazine  or  container,  the 
film  unwinds  from  the  reel  and  passes  through  a  pair  of  tightly 
pressed  rollers  which  constitute  what  is  known  as  a  magazine 
fire  trap  or  fire  valve.    It  then  passes  over  a  constantly  rotating 


244  Putting  It  On  the  Screen 

sprocket  and  a  film-steady  drum  or  film  steadier  to  the  film  gate, 
where  it  is  in  the  path  of  the  powerful  light  source  and  the  lens 
system.  Thence  it  passes  over  the  intermittent  sprocket  and  the 
lower  steady-feed  sprocket,  through  the  lower  magazine  fire  trap 
and  on  to  the  take-up  reel,  as  depicted  on  page  251. 

As  in  the  camera,  the  film  is  provided  with  two  loops,  one 
before  it  passes  through  the  film  gate  and  one  after  it  has  passed. 
The  object  of  these  loops  is  to  provide  for  the  difference  between 
the  ■  steady  feeding  or  constant  movement  and  the  intermittent 
movement.  Obviously,  if  the  film  were  threaded  through  the 
sprockets  without  loops,  the  intermittent  movement  could  not 
operate  without  danger  of  tearing  the  film.  So  loops  are  pro- 
vided; at  one  end  of  the  loop  the  film  is  fed  or  taken,  up,  as  the 
case  may  be,  continuously,  while  at  the  other  it  is  fed  or  taken 
up  intermittently.  The  loop  shortens  and  lengthens  each  time  the 
intermittent  movement  operates,  but  the  same  amount  of  loop  is 
maintained.  In  this  connection  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  the 
patents  covering  the  loop  arrangement  of  the  film,  for  years  con- 
trolled the  film  industry.  So  important  is  the  loop  that  it  is 
practically  impossible  to  design  a  camera  or  a  projector  without 
that  simple  device.  Possessing  the  Latham  Loop  patents,  the 
motion-picture  trust  enjoyed  a  monopoly  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
others  until  a  few  years  ago,  when  the  courts  finally  decided  in 
favor  of  the  independent  producers  who  had  been  spending  the 
better  part  of  their  time  in  the  courts. 

HOW   A   HIGHLY   INFLAMMABLE    MATERIAL   IS    HANDLED 

Film  is  highly  inflammable;  indeed,  it  is  but  another  form  of 
gun-cotton.  If  by  chance  it  is  left  for  a  second  or  less  in  the 
powerful  beam  of  the  projector,  it  bursts  into  flame.  It  must  be 
kept  moving  at  12  or  more  "frames"  per  second.  So  in  its 
handling  all  manner  of  precautions  must  be  taken  to  prevent 
fires.  As  already  stated,  the  two  metal  magazines  of  a  projector 
are  provided  with  fire  traps  or  fire  valves,  usually  consisting  of  a 
pair  of  metal  rollers  close  to  each  other  and  between  which  passes 
the  film.  All  of  the  approved  makes  of  fire  traps  have  been 
subjected  to  fire  tests,  and  they  have  proved  entirely  satisfactory. 
That  is  to  say,  a  piece  of  burning  film  is  extinguished  before  it 
attains  the  interior  of  a  magazine  fitted  with  fire  valves. 


THE   PROJECTING   MACHINE   IS    NOTHING   MORE   THAN   THE    CAMERA   RE- 
VERSED, AS  FAR  AS  PRINCIPLE  IS  CONCERNED 


246  Putting  It  On  the  Screen 

Now  in  addition  to  the  fire  valves  there  is  another  safeguard 
against  fire  on  practically  all  commercial  projectors.  An  auto- 
matic fire  shutter  or  safety  curtain  is  provided  for  the  purpose 
of  shutting  off  the  powerful  beam  of  light  when  the  machine  is 
not  operating  at  the  standard  speed.  This  device  is  required  by 
most  city  ordinances.  The  ideal  fire  shutter  is  one  that  is  so  con- 
trolled by  the  mechanism  that  it  remains  up  or  clear  of  the  beam 
of  light  as  long  as  the  film  is  passing  through  the  film  gate  at 
the  proper  speed,  but  drops  down  and  masks  the  rear  side  of  the 
film  when  the  speed  diminishes  to  a  point  beyond  which  the  film  is 
apt  to  get  overheated.  The  fire  shutter,  when  in  proper  working 
order,  is  no  doubt  a  great  protection,  although  it  should  not  be 
relied  upon  entirely.  Most  fire  shutters  depend  upon  the  move- 
ment of  the  projector  mechanism;  and  in  instances  where  the  film 
comes  to  rest  through  ripped  sprocket  holes  and  the  mechanism 
operates  all  the  while  without  affecting  the  film,  the  shutter  does 
not  function.  The  result  is  a  film  fire,  unless  the  operator  is  alert 
for  just  such  a  contingency. 

A  film  fire  with  a  good  projector  is  generally  a  passing  inci- 
dent, without  serious  consequence  other  than  the  ruining  of  a 
foot  or  two  of  film.  On  the  screen  the  fire  may  sometimes  be 
detected,  when  the  film  is  seen  to  melt  away,  as  it  were.  The  fire 
traps  prevent  the  fire  from  attaining  the  film  reels  in  the  maga- 
zines, and  the  operator  promptly  throws  the  light  over  to  one 
side,  clear  of  the  film.  Rethreading  the  end  of  the  film  from  the 
top  magazine,  through  the  various  sprockets  and  idlers  to  an 
empty  reel  in  the  take-up  magazine,  the  operator  is  generally 
able  to  start  up  again  in  a  minute  or  two.  After  the  entire  film 
has  been  run  off,  he  cuts  the  burnt  ends  of  the  film  evenly  and 
cements  them  together.  Of  course,  some  of  the  action  is  missing, 
which  accounts  for  jumps  in  certain  films.  Generally,  the  missing 
action  is  so  small  that  its  absence  is  really  insignificant,  and  the 
film  is  but  slightly  impaired. 

It  is  because  of  the  fire  hazard  that  the  fire  underwriters  oblige 
projectors  to  be  employed  in  fireproof  booths  of  asbestos.  In 
large  theaters  these  booths  are  elaborate  sructures  of  asbestos 
board  and  steel  framing,  with  all  the  fixtures  of  fireproof  design. 
For  temporary  purposes  tent-like  asbestos  booths  are  available, 
which  can  be  pitched  up  in  a  few  minutes'  time.    With  such  a 


248  Putting  It  On  the  Screen 

structure  about  a  film  projector,  the  fire  hazard  is  reduced  to  a 
minimum;  in  fact,  even  with  the  modern  projector  alone  the  fire 
hazard  is  quite  slight  because  of  the  various  safeguards  on  the 
machine  itself. 

MULTIPLYING   FLICKERS   TO   ELIMINATE   THEM 

It  is  not  so  many  years  ago  that  motion  pictures  were  plioto- 
graphically  poor  and  trying  on  the  eyes.  Aside  from  every  con- 
ceivable photographic  fault,  the  films  flickered  in  a  most  annoy- 
ing manner.  Yet  to-day  the  animated  pictures  are  practically 
flickerless.  Audiences  no  longer  complain  of  tired  eyes  and 
oculists  have  ceased  preaching  about  the  harmful  effects  of 
cinematography.    Why? 

In  the  early  pictures  the  rate  of  taking  was  usually  twelve  per 
second,  although  sixteen  was  by  no  means  unheard  of.  And  when 
sixteen  became  the  standard  rate,  the  films  were  still  full  of 
flicker.  The  shutter,  revolving  in  the  path  of  the  light,  chopped 
off  the  beam  sixteen  times  per  second.  But  the  eye  can  easily 
detect  light  variations  that  slow,  and  so  the  pronounced  flicker 
resulted. 

For  years  pictures  flickered,  when  suddenly  projector  designers 
gave  mathematics  a  cruel  blow.  By  multiplying  the  flickers  they 
produced  a  zero  effect.  That  is  to  say,  they  replaced  the  single- 
blade  shutter  by  a  two-  or  three-blade  shutter.  Or  in  the  case 
of  a  single-blade  shutter  they  geared  the  shutter  to  make  two 
revolutions  for  every  film  image,  so  that  the  light  beam  was  cut 
off  once  while  the  film  was  moving,  and  once  while  the  image  was 
held  stationary.  In  the  case  of  the  two-  and  three-blade  shutters, 
the  light  was  cut  off  while  the  film  moved,  and  once  or  twice  while 
the  image  was  at  rest.  The  result  of  increasing  the  flickers  has 
been  to  cut  up  the  light  interval  so  as  to  make  a  less  marked 
contrast  between  the  dark  period,  when  the  light  is  shut  off 
entirely,  and  the  light  period  when  the  image  is  being  projected. 

TRANSLATING   CONSTANT   MOVEMENT  INTO   REGULAR  JERKS 

In  the  case  of  the  motion-picture  camera  various  mechanical 
movements  are  employed  for  shifting  the  film  one  image  at  a 
time,  while  the  shutter  masks  the  lens.  The  most  common  move- 
ments are  the  claw,  which  consists  of  two  claw-like  or  hook  mem- 


THE   EXIGENCIES    OF   THE   GREAT   WAR   PROVED   THAT   OPERATING   WAS 
NOT   BARRED   TO   THE  GENTLE  SEX 


250  Putting  It  On  the  Screen 


bers  engaging  with  the  fihn  sprocket  holes,  and  the  so-called 
drunken  screw  movement,  in  which  a  pair  of  pins  engages  with 
the  sprocket  holes.  In  either  case  the  film-engaging  members 
are  moved  into  a  pair  of  sprocket  holes,  then  moved  down  a 
definite  distance,  and  then  disengaged,  only  to  be  shifted  up  and 
pressed  into  another  pair  of  sprocket  holes  in  time  to  pull  down 
the  next  image. 

In  the  projector  a  similar  movement  is  employed^  although  the 
mechanical  details  are  somewhat  different.  Instead  of  claws, 
the  projector  makes  use  of  the  intermittent  sprocket,  which 
receives  its  intermittent  movement  through  its  mechanism.  The 
latter  is  generally  of  two  types:  the  Geneva  Cross  and  the  Cam 
and  Cross  Pin.  The  object  of  these  movements  is  to  shift  the 
film  very  rapidly  so  as  to  allow  the  greatest  possible  length  of 
time  for  the  stationary  picture.  This  feature,  too,  makes  for  a 
minimum  of  light  required.  What  is  more,  film  is  not  an  extra 
strong  material,  especially  when  the  purchase  is  merely  two 
sprocket  holes  with  a  thin  strip  of  celluloid  between  them.  Hence 
it  becomes  necessary  to  jerk  the  film  with  great  care — it  should 
be  started  slowly,  then  increased  in  speed,  and  then  brought  to  a 
gradual  stop. 

The  Geneva  movement  fulfills  these  conditions  so  well  that  it 
is  largely  employed  to-day.  By  referring  to  the  accompanying 
drawings,  it  will  be  noted  that  it  consists  of  a  "pin  wheel,"  A, 
which  is  geared  to  the  mechanism  and  therefore  has  a  steady 
rotation,  and  the  Geneva  Cross,  B,  with  its  four  deep  slots  en- 
gaging with  the  pin  wheel.  The  cross,  it  will  immediately  be 
obvious,  is  connected  to  the  sprocket,  so  that  its  movements  are 
directly  transmitted  to  the  sprocket.  Now  the  pin  wheel  is  also 
provided  with  a  cam  band,  C,  which  is  cut  away  sufficiently  to 
permit  the  cross  to  make  a  quarter  revolution  and  no  more.  In 
this  manner  the  film  is  positively  moved  the  same  distance  each 
time. 

It  does  not  require  much  of  a  mechanical  mind  to  grasp  the 
operation  of  this  device.  As  the  pin  wheel  rotates,  its  pin  enters 
one  slot  of  the  cross  and  carries  it  along  until  the  cross  has  made  a 
quarter  turn,  by  which  time  the  cam  band  is  in  position  to  prevent 
further  movement  while  the  pin  disengages  itself  from  the  slot. 
The  pin,  turning  with  the  pin  wheel,  comes  around  again  and 


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252  Putting  It  On  the  Screen 

engages  the  next  slot,  repeating  the  cycle  as  often  as  the  projector 
continues  to  be  operated.  This  movement  is  ideal  for  the  pur- 
pose, for  the  film  is  moved  slowly  at  first,  rapidly  toward  the 
middle  of  the  cycle,  and  then  slowed  up  before  the  disengagement. 
The  film  is  thus  subjected  to  a  minimum  wear  and  tear. 

A  form  of  intermittent  movement  which  is  of  more  recent 
conception  than  the  Geneva  Cross  is  the  Cam  and  Cross  Pin, 
which  is  shown  in  another  set  of  sketches.  Here  the  mechanism 
comprises  four  prime  members,  namely,  a  diamond-shaped  cam, 
a  locking  ring,  a  pin  cross,  and  a  sprocket.  The  cam  and  locking 
ring  are  formed  together  on  the  face  of  a  solid  steel  disk.  The 
four  pins  of  the  pin  cross  are  formed  from  the  end  of  a  solid 
cylinder  of  steel.  The  remainder  of  this  cylinder  is  turned  down 
to  the  proper  diameter  to  act  as  a  spindle  upon  which  the  sprocket 
is  securely  fastened.  These  details  are  only  mentioned  by  way  of 
illustrating  the  great  care  exercised  in  making  an  intermittent 
movement;  for  after  all  is  said  and  done  the  intermittent  move- 
ment is  the  very  heart  of  the  projector.  It  is  the  weakest  link, 
so  to  speak,  inasmuch  as  the  success  or  failure  of  the  projector 
originates  in  this  movement. 

The  operation  of  the  Cam  and  Cross  Pin  is  also  readily  fol-. 
lowed.  At  every  revolution  of  the  driving  disk,  the  cross  makes  a 
quarter  of  a  revolution  because  of  the  diamond  shaped  section  of 
the  cam,  while  the  remainder  of  the  cam  locks  the  pin  cross  in 
position  during  movements.  It  is  claimed  for  this  intermittent 
movement  that  it  moves  the  film  in  the  shortest  time  of  any. 

No  matter  what  the  type  of  intermittent  movement  may  be,  it 
is  generally  contained  in  an  oil  or  grease  bath,  so  as  to  reduce 
the  wear  and  tear  to  a  minimum,  and  to  reduce  the  noise  of  clash- 
ing parts. 

HAND   AND   MOTOR   CRANKING 

The  turning  of  a  single  main  shaft  operates  all  the  mechanism 
of  a  motion-picture  projector.  The  main  shaft,  by  means  of 
gears  and  belts,  turns  the  film  reels,  operates  the  intermediate 
sprockets  and  idlers,  twirls  the  shutter,  and  drives  the  intermit- 
tent movement. 

The  first  projectors  were  hand  driven,  the  operator  cranking 
the  handle  hour  in  and  hour  out  while  at  work.    But  this  is  tire- 


ABOVE:     FUNCTIONING    OF   THE    CAM    AND    CROSS    PIN    MOVEMENT.      BE- 
LOW:    COMPONENTS   OF  THE   CAM    AND   CROSS    PIN    MOVEMENT 


254  Putting  It  On  the  Screen 

some  and  unnecessary^  labor;  and  it  was  not  very  long  before 
motors  were  attached  to  the  projector,  leaving  the  operator  free 
to  supervise  the  projection,  unhampered  and  unimpaired  by  the 
erstwhile  cranking.  The  electric  motors  employed  for  projection 
machines  are  small  ones,  driving  the  main  shaft  through  the 
medium  of  a  variable-speed  friction  drive  and  belt  transmission. 
After  loading  and  threading  the  projector,  the  operator  has  but 
to  turn  on  the  light  and  snap  the  switch  to  start  the  picture,  after 
which  the  work  practically  takes  care  of  itself. 

When  two  films  of  different  frame  lines  or  when  films  of 
uniform  frame  line  are  carelessly  patched  together,  the 
image  or  picture  is  said  to  be  "out  of  frame";  that  is  why  it 
sometimes  happens  that  a  house  is  cut  in  two  horizontally,  the 
lower  part  being  on  top  of  the  roof;  or  a  man  is  cut  in  two,  with 
his  feet  resting  on  his  head.  The  remedy  for  this  trouble  is  any 
one  of  the  numerous  systems  of  framing,  which  enable  the  op- 
erator to  set  the  image  in  frame  again,  almost  immediately, 
by  means  of  a  lever. 

So  far  the  projector  has  been  completely  covered  with  the  single 
exception  of  the  source  of  light.  Hence  a  short  survey  of  the 
various  methods  of  furnishing  light  for  film  projection  is  now 
undertaken. 

It  is  no  simple  matter  to  pass  a  large  volume  of  light  through 
such  an  opaque  object  as  a  film  image,  especially  when  the  trans- 
mitted light  is  to  be  enlarged  thousands  of  times  on  a  distant 
screen.  Indeed,  tens  of  thousands  of  candlepower  must  be  used 
for  the  purpose,  and  the  consumption  of  current  is  necessarily 
great. 

The  most  satisfactory  light  for  motion-picture  projection  has 
been  the  arc  lamp,  consisting  of  two  carbon  pencils  between  which 
plays  an  electric  flame  or  arc  of  bluish-white  hue.  The  arc  proper 
is  due  to  the  vapors  of  volatilized  carbon  or  other  materials 
forming  the  electrodes,  which  are  slowly  consumed  by  the  action 
of  the  electric  current.  In  order  to  form  the  arc,  the  electrodes 
must  first  be  brought  together,  and  then  separated  a  short  dis- 
tance. The  flame  or  arc  when  adjusted  the  proper  length,  is  prac- 
tically silent  in  the  case  of  direct  current,  although  it  hums  in  the 
case  of  alternating  current.  If  the  arc  is  too  short,  it  sputters 
or  "fries,"  and  the  light  is  unsatisfactory.    When  the  proper  arc 


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256  Putting  It  On  the  Screen 

has  been  struck,  means  must  be  taken  to  feed  the  carbons  toward 
each  other,  since  they  are  constantly  consumed,  tending  to 
lengthen  the  arc.  If  the  carbons  are  not  fed  toward  each  other 
at  regular  intervals,  the  arc  soon  increases  to  such  a  length  that 
the  current  can  no  longer  bridge  the  gap  and  the  arc  is  ex- 
tinguished. 

Various  mechanical  methods  of  feeding  the  arc  are  in  use,  the 
most  common  being  a  gear  and  ratchet  arrangement  of  the  design 
shown,  wherein  the  two  carbons  are  fed  toward  each  other  so  as 
to  maintain  the  arc  always  opposite  the  center  of  the  lens  system. 
Other  adjustments  for  the  arc  lamp,  or  what  goes  to  comprise 
the  arc  stand,  shift  the  arc  to  the  right  or  left,  up  or  down,  and 
forward  or  backward,  so  as  to  obtain  the  best  projection. 

There  have  been  attempts  to  feed  the  carbons  mechanically, 
making  the  work  of  the  operator  still  less  trying.  One  very 
ingenious  arrangement  comprised  an  electric  motor  operating  the 
carbons  through  an  elaborate  transmission  system.  The  motor 
was  started  and  stopped  by  the  varying  resistance  of  the  arc:  as 
the  arc  increased  in  length  and  the  resistance  mounted,  the  motor 
was  started;  and  when  the  carbons  were  again  brought  to  the 
proper  distance,  reducing  the  resistance  of  the  arc,  the  motor 
stopped.  Successful  as  the  device  was  in  operation,  it  does  not 
seem  to  have  met  with  universal  favor,  probably  due  to  its  great 
cost  in  comparison  to  that  of  the  entire  projector.  So  for  the 
most  part  the  operator  has  to  feed  his  arc  by  hand,  watching  it 
every  little  while  during  the  projecting  of  a  picture  to  see  that  the 
screen  image  is  well  illuminated. 

More  recently  an  attempt  has  been  made  to  replace  the  arc 
light  with  an  incandescent  bulb  of  the  gas-filled,  high-efficiency 
sort.  Leading  research  engineers  have  succeeded  in  evolving 
successful  illuminating  means  for  motion-picture  work,  and  it  is 
now  possible  to  obtain  a  brilliant  white  image  on  a  10  by  13  foot 
screen,  at  a  distance  of  80  feet.  Better  projection  results  from 
the  use  of  the  incandescent  lamp.  When  once  adjusted  it  requires 
no  further  attention,  thus  permitting  the  operator  to  devote  his 
entire  time  and  thought  to  the  actual  projection  of  the  picture. 
Constant  adjustment  is  eliminated  and  a  steadier  illumination  is 
assured,  especially  in  cases  where  alternating  current  is  used. 

Economy  is  the  watchword  of  the   incandescent   lamp.     It 


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258  Putting  It  On  the  Screen 

effects  an  approximate  25  per  cent  reduction  in  operating  ex- 
penses. A  further  saving,  wliich  can  hardly  be  estimated,  is  also 
made  through  decreased  condenser  breakage  due  to  the  fact  that 
an  incandescent  lamp  does  not  generate  the  excessive  heat  of  the 
arc.  Thus  the  condensers  are  not  subjected  to  such  extreme 
temperatures,  which  greatly  increases  their  life. 

Best  results  are  obtained  when  the  incandescent  lamp  is  used 
in  its  proper  sphere  of  duty.  To  expect  it  to  project  a  16  by  20 
foot  picture  will  only  result  in  disappointment.  Constant  ex- 
perimentation is  under  way  to  produce  a  still  higher  v/attage  in- 
candescent lamp  that  will  stand  up  under  practical  usage.  While 
it  is  only  a  question  of  time  before  such  a  lamp  is  perfected, 
it  is  obvious  that  the  incandescent  lamp  equipment  cannot  be 
used  under  any  and  all  conditions  until  the  higher  wattage  lamp 
has  become  a  certainty. 

In  conclusion^  the  incandescent  lamp  is  unexcelled  in  its  proper 
sphere,  which  is  a  limited  sized  image  for  a  limited  throw.  But 
when  it  comes  to  large  images  with  large  throws,  such  as  for  the 
use  of  large  theaters,  the  arc  is  still  the  only  satisfactory  il- 
luminant. 

THE    MAN    BEHIND   THE   PROJECTOR 

As  was  stated  in  the  opening  paragraphs  of  this  chapter,  the 
ultimate  success  of  a  photoplay  depends  on  the  operator  of  the 
projector.  He  can  present  the  photoplay  film  as  it  really  is,  or 
he  can  ruin  it  before  the  eyes  of  the  audience. 

While  it  is  true  that  the  projection  of  film  is  largely  a  matter 
of  routine,  the  operator  must  be  something  of  a  mechanic.  Pro- 
jecting machines  are  elaborate  mechanical  contraptions  and  there 
are  numerous  adjustments  that  require  attention  from  time  to 
time.  And  the  operator  must  know  his  business,  for  much  de- 
pends on  his  skill  and  experience  in  the  success  of  a  show.  Again, 
he  must  be  conscientious,  because  with  each  reel  of  film  repre- 
senting an  investment  of  one  hundred  or  more  dollars,  much 
property  is  placed  in  his  care.  The  exchanges,  or  film  brokers, 
are  to  a  large  extent  at  the  tender  mercies  of  the  operators,  who 
handle  the  reels  which  are  hired  out  by  the  day.  Some  careless 
operators  ruin  many  a  reel  of  film  beyond  repair,  but  these  men 
are  few  and  far  between.  As  a  general  thing,  however,  the  op- 
erators respect  the  trust  that  is  placed  with  them. 


CHAPTER   XIII 


PICTURES  IN  NATURAL  COLORS 


/T  IS  NOT  because  natural-color  films  are  impossible 
or  impractical  that  black-and-white  Jilms  persist. 
There  are  today  numerous  systems  for  producing 
naturcd-color  fdms  of  the  practical  sort,  which  may  be 
shown  in  any  theatre  equipped  with  standard  apparatus. 
These  natural-color  fdms  reproduce  all  the  colors  of  Nature 
with  utmost  fidelity.  In  fact,  the  screen  picture  becomes 
an  almost  perfect  reproduction  of  the  prototype,  whatever 
it  may  be.  Still,  black-and-white  films  continue  to  be 
shown .  Producers  have  not  taken  very  kindly  to  natural- 
color  films  for  good  and  sufficient  reasons.  Scenic  and 
scientific  subjects  are  worthy  of  natural-color  reproduction; 
but  when  it  comes  to  the  photoplay,  they  prefer  to  continue 
with  black-and-white,  for  the  time  being  at  least. 


260  Pictures  in  Natural  Colors 

REPRODUCTION  in  natural  colors  is  the  goal  of  modern 
photography.  Of  that  there  can  be  no  doubt;  for  at  best 
'  the  black-and-white  reproduction  is  a  makeshift  or  sub- 
stitute, in  lieu  of  the  more  realistic  reproduction  which  must  come 
in  time.  And  that  is  precisely  why  numerous  inventors  in  many 
lands  have  devoted  time  and  energy  and  purse  to  the  solution 
of  the  color  photography  problem.  Wonderful  results  have  been 
obtained,  to  be  sure ;  huge  sums  of  money  have  been  invested  in 
some  of  the. processes,  which  proved  so  successful  in  the  labora- 
tory and  at  the  public  demonstration;  but  as  a  whole  the  color 
picture  has  been  slow  in  attaining  commercial  realization. 

THE   LABORATORY   AND   THE   WORKADAY   WORLD 

It  is  quite  one  thing  to  obtain  wonderful  color  pictures  and 
quite  another  to  make  a  business  success  of  a  process.  With 
money  as  a  secondary  consideration,  it  is  possible  to  develop 
wonderfully  faithful  pictures  in  natural  colors.  Time  and  again 
that  has  been  done,  and  the  press  has  been  free  in  its  praise 
of  the  results  obtained.  But  pictures  are  a  business  after  all,  and 
sooner  or  later  the  matter  of  dollars  and  cents  comes  up.  How 
much  does  it  cost?  How  much  extra  equipment  has  to  be  in- 
stalled? Is  any  extra  help  required?  What  do  the  films  cost 
to  hire?  Those  are  but  a  few  of  the  questions  asked  by  the 
exhibitors;  and  it  depends  entirely  on  the  answers  whether  the 
process  in  question  is  to  be  a  commercial  success  or  failure.  Many 
a  color-picture  inventor  has  made  promising  progress  until  he 
encountered  those  questions,  and  his  hopes  have  been  dashed  to 
pieces  against  that  impenetrable  wall  isolating  him  from  the 
public — and  fortune. 

A  color  picture  process  must  be  realistic,  in  the  first  place. 
Its  value  as  a  picture  must  be  such  as  to  make  it  worth  its  dif- 
ference in  rental  or  cost  over  the  black-and-white  film.  Then 
it  must  be  inexpensive,  both  for  the  film  and  the  equipment 
required.  If  the  process  requires  an  elaborate  projector  in  addi- 
tion to  the  usual  equipment  of  the  theater,  its  chances  of  com- 
mercial success  are  then  and  there  greatly  reduced.  Most  ex- 
hibitors are  slow  to  install  additional  equipment  unless  it  is 
quite  imperative;  and  it  is  obviously  difficult  to  induce, the  pur- 
chase of  several  hundred  or  several  thousand  dollars  worth  of 


262  Pictures  in  Natural  Colors 

equipment  just  for  the  occasional  showing  of  a  color  picture.  It 
is  exactly  the  same  as  if  a  man,  owning  say  a  Victorila,  were  asked 
to  purchase  a  Jonesola  just  for  the  sake  of  being  able  to  play  the 
special  records  made  by  the  King  of  Timbuctoo.  The  question 
would  be:  Are  the  records  of  that  king  worth  the  price  of  a 
machine  only  good  for  those  records?  Decidedly  not;  and  so 
with  the  special  projector. 

To  be  a  commercial  success,  then,  a  color  picture  must  require 
the  minimum  of  special  projection  apparatus,  preferably  none 
at  all.  The  films  must  be  foolproof,  and  not  too  expensive  to 
purchase  or  rent.  And  it  is  because  so  few  processes  have  been 
able  to  meet  those  requirements  that  natural  color  pictures  are 
still  a  rarity, 

WHAT   ARE    NATURAL    COLOR   PICTURES? 

There  exists  a  general  misunderstanding  concerning  natural 
color  pictures.  The  public  is  ready  to  accept  all  colored  pictures 
as  natural  color  ones,  whereas  there  is  a  vast  difference. 

Early  in  the  motion-picture  industry  colored  films  made  their 
appearance.  These  films,  which  in  nine  caseg  out  of  ten  were 
produced  in  France,  were  delightfully  and  realistically  colored. 
But  they  were  not  natural  color  films.  Each  little  image,  measur- 
ing but  one  inch  by  three-quarter  inch,  was  painted  by  hand.  It 
was  a  tedious  handiwork  to  be  sure ;  and  it  required  the  skill  and 
patience  of  hundreds  of  French  girls  to  tint  the  films  for  the 
entertainment  of  world-wide  audiences. 

In  order  to  save  time,  various  labor-saving  methods  were 
introduced,  although  the  work  perforce  remained  a  slow  and 
painstaking  one.  The  general  practice  was  for  one  worker  to  go 
through  one  scene,  painting  just  a  single  character,  tree,  house, 
sky  or  other  background,  in  each  image,  in  successive  order,  in 
one  color.  Thus  the  minimum  of  time  was  required,  since  it  was 
not  necessary  to  pick  up  various  brushes  for  various  shades,  with 
the  ever  present  danger  of  making  mistakes.  And  when  one  little 
detail  had  been  tinted  throughout  a  scene,  the  same  worker  or 
another  worker  began  on  another  detail,  and  so  on  until  every 
image  became  a  fully  colored  picture. 

Wherever  possible,  stencils  were  employed  for  reducing  the 


PROPERTIES  AND  SCENES  ARE  NOW  PAINTED  IN  PLAIN   PHOTOGRAPHIC 
COLORS,  WITH  A  MINIMUM  OF  WORK 


264  Pictures  in  Natural  Colors 

time  and  labor  required.    But  even  so,  the  work  was  at  best  quite 
expensive,  although  most  pleasing  to  audiences. 

Coming  to  natural  color  pictures,  however,  it  must  be  made 
clear  from  the  very  start  that  there  is  no  painting  of  any  kind 
connected  with  them.  Photography,  and  photography  alone,  is 
depended  upon  to  reproduce  any  scene  or  object  in  its  natural 
colors.  Dyes  and  toning  chemicals  are  employed  in  some  proc- 
esses, to  be  sure,  but  there  is  no  painting  in  the  accepted  sense 
of  the  word. 

MIXING   COLORS   TO   OBTAIN   PURE  WHITE 

Almost  everyone  has  at  one  time  or  another  become  acquainted 
with  the  glass  prism  and  its  peculiar  properties,  among  them  the 
breaking  up  of  a  ray  of  white  light  into  red,  orange,  yellow,  green, 
blue,  and  violet.  These  colors,  mixed  in  varying  degree,  produce 
any  shade  known  to  the  human  eye.  And  these  same  colors,  when 
mixed  in  the  proper  proportions,  produce  pure  white.  The  three 
primary  colors  are  red,  blue,  and  yellow,  and  it  is  the  proper  use 
of  these  colors  upon  which  natural  color  photography  is  based. 

In  photography  there  are  certain  devices  known  as  color  filters 
or  ray  filters.  These  devices,  consisting  generally  of  strips  of 
colored  glass  made  to  fit  in  front  of  a  camera  lens,  have  the 
peculiar  property  of  allowing  certain  colors  to  pass  quite  freely 
while  barring  others.  Thus  if  a  red  ray  filter  is  employed,  the 
print  resulting  from  the  negative  will  bring  out  the  red  values  of 
the  object  to  the  detriment  of  the  other  color  values.  But  if  we 
photograph  the  same  object  through  a  blue  ray  filter  and  then 
through  a  yellow  filter,  making  separate  lantern  slides  of  each, 
we  have  the  three  primary  color  values  of  that  object.  If  we 
could  possibly  project  these  three  lantern  slides,  all  of  the  one 
size,  so  that  their  images  would  coincide,  using  a  red  light  for 
the  red  image,  blue  for  the  blue,  and  yellow  for  the  yellow,  we 
would  obtain  a  natural  color  image.  In  brief,  that  is  the  prin- 
ciple of  color  photography. 

Before  entering  the  subject  of  natural  color  films,  it  is  neces- 
sary first  to  explain  a  peculiar  property  of  the  human  eye, 
namely,  that  known  as  the  persistency  of  vision.  We  believe  our 
eye  to  be  quick  to  see,  and  so  it  is.  But  we  may  be  disappointed, 
perhaps,  to  be  told  that  the  eye  responds  comparatively  slowly. 


MAKING  A  NATURAL-COLOR  FILM  OF  AN  AQUARIUM.     IN  THIS  CATEGORY 
THE  NATURAL-COLOR  FILM  IS  A  NECESSITY 


266  Pictures  in  Natural  Colors 

In  fact,  motion  pictures  of  the  black-and-white  variety  depend 
upon  the  persistence  of  vision  for  their  illusion.  The  eye  retains 
one  image  until  the  next  is  projected  in  its  place,  and  before  the 
eye  can  forget  the  second  a  third  is  projected,  and  so  on.  To  the 
eye  the  images  appear  as  one,  for  the  dissolving  effect  of  one 
into  the  other  is  produced  in  the  eye  because  of  the  rate  of 
projection.  And  so  with  color  pictures.  In  reality,  the  images 
may  not  be  in  full  color.  Each  one  is  of  a  distinct  shade  in  most 
systems;  but  the  successive  images  are  so  arranged  that  the  red 
and  blue,  or  whatever  colors  are  used,  follow  each  other  with 
such  rapidity  that  the  eye  retains  two  or  three  images  at  a  time, 
giving  the  full  color  effect. 

One  of  the  earliest  commercial  natural  color  film  processes 
made  its  appearance  in  December,  1907,  in  England,  as  the  result 
of  the  untiring  efforts  of  an  Enghshman  and  an  American.  This 
method  dispensed  with  one  of  the  components  of  white  light, 
namely,  blue- violet,  and  used  but  two,  red  and  green,  of  the 
required  colors.  The  red,  of  course,  contained  some  yellow,  being 
more  on  the  orange,  while  the  green  contained  blue  and  yellow, 
and  in  this  manner  it  was  possible  to  dispense  with  the  yellow, 
generally  speaking.  The  images  were  made  at  the  rate  of  32  per 
second,  through  red  and  green  color  filters  arranged  on  a  wheel 
turning  in  front  of  the  film.  Thus  one  image  was  photographed 
with  the  red  filter,  while  the  next  was  photographed  with  the 
green,  and  so  on. 

The  positive  film  made  from  the  negative  was  black-and- 
white  in  appearance,  but  it  contained  the  latent  color  values.  It 
only  needed  a  special  projector  adapted  to  the  speed  of  32  per 
second  and  equipped  with  a  color  wheel  working  in  synchronism 
with  the  images  to  produce  the  illusion  of  full  color  pictures, 
thanks  to  the  persistency  of  vision  phenomenon.  The  red  images 
were  projected  when  the  red  sector  of  the  color  wheel  was  in  the 
line  of  projection,  and  the  green  images  when  the  green  sector  was 
aligned. 

The  inventors  at  first  met  with  considerable  success.  Their 
pictures  were  remarkably  clear  and  realistic,  although  when  rap- 
idly moving  objects  were  presented  there  appeared  a  red  or  green 
fringe  about  the  outlines,  indicating  that  successive  images  did 
not  coincide  or  register,  although  in  black-and-white  this  would 


THESE    BLACK-AND-WHITE    FILMS    ARE    USED    WITH    COLOR-WHEEL    AT- 
TACHMENTS.     NOTE   THE   DIFFERENCES   IN    TONE 


26S  Pictures  in  Natural  Colors 

pass  unnoticed.  American  audiences  have  never  forgotten  the 
splendid  color  productions  made  in  this  country,  as  well  as  the 
Durbar  films  made  in  India  and  the  Coronation  of  King  George 
V.  in  England. 

The  process  required  a  special  projector,  which  made  its  em- 
ployment rather  prohibitive  in  small  theaters.  Again,  twice  the 
footage  of  black-and-white  film  was  required,  adding  materially 
to  the  cost  of  the  film.  But  for  the  larger  theaters  where  the  cost 
was  but  a  small  consideration,  the  film  was  available. 

INGENIOUS    COLOR   PHOTOGRAPHY    SCHEMES 

This  color  photography  system  was  the  first  commercially 
exploited  natural  color  film.  But  ever  since  its  initial  bow  before 
the  public  there  have  been  no  end  of  others,  some  good,  some 
poor,  but  most  of  them  for  one  reason  or  another  not  available 
for  commercial  exploitation. 

Among  the  more  elaborate  schemes  have  been  those  depending 
on  the  simultaneous  projection  of  all  the  color  images  forming  a 
single  "frame."  One  of  these  made  use  of  an  extra  wide  film 
on  which  were  photographed  "red,"  "blue"  and  "yellow"  images 
simultaneously,  through  one  lens  but  with  the  rays  of  light  split 
so  as  to  pass  through  various  ray  filters.  In  projecting  the  reverse 
process  was  employed:  the  various  images  were  projected  on  the 
screen  by  means  of  red,  blue,  and  yellow  lights. 

The  results  obtained  with  this  system  were  well-nigh  perfect. 
Why  shouldn't  they  be?  The  principle  was  technically  correct. 
But  when  the  process  left  the  laboratory  and  the  private  demon- 
stration room  it  met  with  rather  a  cold  reception  on  the  part 
of  the  trade.  The  special  equipment  and  the  great  cost  of  the 
extra-sized  film  made  it  a  poor  commercial  proposition. 

Working  on  an  entirely  different  reasoning,  other  inventors 
have  tried  to  produce  film  which  could  be  used  in  the  standard 
projector.  Thus  they  have  had  the  small  exhibitor  in  mind  as 
well  as  the  largest.  One  of  these  schemes  which  is  typical  of 
most  of  them  is  to  use  both  sides  of  the  positive  film,  thus  pro- 
jecting two  images  in  a  common  frame  at  one  time.  The  method 
is  as  follows: 

In  the  camera  two  negative  films  are  exposed  at  one  time. 
One  negative  records  the  "red"  image,  while  the  other  records 


Kg 
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270  Pictures  in  Natural  Colors 

the  "blue-green."  A  prism  is  employed  for  splitting  the  light 
rays  passing  through  the  common  lens.  When  the  negatives  have 
been  developed,  they  are  printed  on  to  either  side  of  a  double- 
coated  positive  film  which  has  a  yellow  celluloid  stock.  The 
object  of  the  yellow  is  to  prevent  actinic  light  from  passing  freely 
through  the  celluloid  and  interfering  with  the  images  on  the  other 
side.  The  ''red"  negative  is  printed  on  one  side,  while  the  "blue" 
is  printed  on  the  other.  Then  the  positive  is  developed  and  tinted 
red  on  the  "red"  side  and  blue  on  the  "blue."  The  positive, 
obviously,  contains  the  image  in  color:  by  holding  it  up  to  the 
light  the  coinciding  red  and  blue  images  appear  as  one  full  color 
image,  the  yellow  of  the  celluloid  supplying  the  yellow  required 
to  obtain  all  shades.  Of  course,  it  is  not  possible  to  obtain  pure 
white  with  such  film,  but  white  is  obtained  by  contrast.  An 
example  of  what  is  meant  by  contrast  is  to  be  found  in  the  daily 
newspaper:  offhand,  we  all  say  that  a  newspaper  is  white- 
white  because  it  appears  so  in  contrast  with  the  black  printing. 
But  if  the  newspaper  is  placed  on  clean  snow  it  is  soon  evident 
that  it  is  anything  but  white.  So  with  the  film  mentioned;  the 
white  is  obtained  by  contrast. 

Another  scheme  makes  use  of  either  the  32-pictures-per-second 
negatives  already  described,  or  negatives  made  in  the  same  man- 
ner; that  is  to  say,  at  a  high  rate  of  speed  with  alternate  "red" 
and  "green"  images.  These  negatives  are  printed  on  both  sides  of 
positive  film  which  is  then  tinted  red  and  green,  and  can  be  em- 
ployed in  standard  projectors. 

Still  another  scheme  makes  a  "red"  and  a  "green"  image  at  a 
time,  by  means  of  a  prism  arrangement  using  the  common  lens. 
The  images  are^  arranged  in  the  usual  order,  but  instead  of  being 
made  successively  as  in  the  first-mentioned  process,  a  pair  is 
made  at  one  time,  and  then  another  pair,  and  so  on.  The  film  is 
moved  at  the  rate  of  16  pairs,  or  32  images,  per  second.  The 
positive,  which  is  printed  from  the  negative,  is  then  arranged  for 
dyeing.  Little  blocks  are  placed  over  each  "green"  image  and  the 
film  placed  in  the  red  dye,  after  which  the  blocks  are  shifted  over 
the  "red"  images  and  the  film  placed  in  the  green  dye.  In  pro- 
jecting this  film  a  special  machine  is  required,  projecting  two 
images  at  a  time  and  shifting  by  pairs  instead  of  by  single 
images. 


TYPICAL  NATURAL-COLOR  CAMERA  WITH  LENS-BOARD  REMOVED,   SHOW- 
ING COLOR-WHEEL  AND  RAY  FILTERS 


272  Pictures  in  Natural  Colors 

Of  late  there  has  been  developed  a  new  process  which  in  many 
ways  appears  to  be  an  improvement  on  other  processes.  Indeed, 
this  process  reproduces  objects  at  rest  and  in  motion,  and  in 
nearly  all  shades  and  colors  found  in  nature.  The  detail  is  just 
as  complete  as  that  of  the  black-and-white  film.  Aside  from  the 
faithful  reproduction  of  the  subjects,  the  new  pictures  display  an 
almost  complete  absence  of  the  objectionable  color  fringe  found 
in  some  of  the  other  processes,  when  fast  moving  objects  are  por- 
trayed. But  its  main  advantages  are  simplicity  and  wide  ap- 
plicability: the  film  can  be  handled  by  the  ordinary  operator  in 
the  standard  projector,  by  means  of  a  simple  and  inexpensive 
attachment  which  in  no  way  interferes  with  the  projection  of 
black-and-white  film  at  will.  Thus  it  is  possible  for  the  smallest 
theater  to  show  color  pictures  as  part  of  its  usual  program. 

A   STUDY  IN    COLORS  AND   COLOR   COMBINATIONS 

Four  colors,  made  up  of  two  pairs  of  complementary  colors,  are 
involved  in  the  new  process.  The  first  pair  is  composed  of  red 
and  blue-green,  and  the  second  of  orange  (or  yellow)  and  blue. 
These  four  shades  photographically  cover  the  entire  range  of 
visible  colors.  The  reduction  to  a  substantial  white  from  each 
pair  of  images  and  the  fact  that  all  colors  overlap,  enable  the 
pictures  to  be  made  with  but  little  apparent  differences  in  densi- 
ties; and  this  feature  is  further  brought  about  by  the  addition 
of  other  elements  in  the  making  of  the  film.  These  factors  render 
unnecessary  special  laboratory  equipment  other  than  that  used  in 
black-and-white  cinematography. 

In  taking  the  new  pictures  the  camera  controls  a  single  strip 
of  panchromatic  film — film  whose  emulsion  is  sensitive  to  all 
color  rays — of  standard  width  and  perforation,  this  being  pulled 
down  step  by  step  back  of  a  single  lens  as  in  usual  practice.  Be- 
tween the  lens  and  the  film,  however,  two  shutters  are  employed, 
the  usual  one  to  cover  the  film  during  the  period  when  the  film 
is  moving,  and  another  to  bring  into  position  the  color  filters 
through  which  light  rays  must  pass  before  reaching  the  film  dur- 
ing exposure.  As  each  ray  filter  comes  into  alignment  with  the 
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operated  at  a  speed  of  24  frames  per  second.  Opposite  each 
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274  Pictures  in  Natural  Colors 

in  the  perforated  margin  of  the  film,  to  serve  as  a  guide  at  all 
times;  for  with  the  position  of  the  image  thus  indicated,  the 
laboratory  staff,  the  operator  of  the  projector,  or  anyone  else 
can  immediately  locate  the  "red"  image  of  the  negative  or  posi- 
tive, or  any  other  image,  for  that  matter,  since  the  order  of  the 
various  "colors"  is  always  the  same.  The  black  stripe  or  mark 
is  made  in  the  camera  by  allowing  a  ray  of  light  to  pass  through 
a  small  tube  mounted  on  the  lens  board,  at  the  moment  when  the 
"red"  image  is  being  recorded. 

The  positives  are  printed  in  the  usual  manner,  and  although  the 
finished  film  is  in  black  and  white  and  does  not  materially  differ 
from  ordinary  film,  it  nevertheless  carries  latent  color  values, 
just  as  does  other  similar  film.  Some  strips  of  positive  film  indi- 
cate the  color  separation  to  a  greater  degree  than  others,  depend- 
ing on  the  subject,  so  that  adjacent  images  may  often  be  of 
somewhat  different  densities. 

At  this  point  the  question  naturally  is  asked:  By  what  magic 
is  this  monochrome,  lifeless  film  translated  into  living,  colored 
photography? 

The  process  of  reproducing  the  original  is  simple  when  once 
explained.  A  color  wheel  composed  of  colors  similar  to  those 
used  in  taking  the  pictures,  is  geared  to  the  projector.  For  cer- 
tain reasons,  however,  the  selection  and  arrangement  of  the  colors 
differ  slightly  in  the  projector  and  the  camera.  The  projector 
makes  use  of  a  six-segment  color  wheel  or  color  screen  shutter, 
three  segments  being  in  graded  shades  of  red  and  three  in  blue. 
It  will  be  noted,  further,  that  each  image  on  the  film  remains  in 
position  long  enough  to  be  projected  on  the  screen  with  three 
shades  of  red  or  blue,  as  the  case  may  be.  The  red  and  orange 
images  are  projected  with  light  passed  through  three  red  seg- 
ments, and  the  blue  and  blue-green  images  with  light  passed 
through  the  three  blue  segments.  The  speed  of  projection  is  24 
images  or  "frames"  per  second,  and  the  persistency  of  vision  is 
depended  upon  for  the  full  color  effect. 

The  concern  which  introduced  this  system  has  lately  developed 
a  modified  one,  in  which  the  film  is  tinted  red  on  one  side  and 
green  on  the  other,  so  as  to  eliminate  the  special  attachment. 
After  all,  that  film  is  best  which  can  be  shown  on  any  standard 
machine  without  attachments  or  additional  experience  on  the 


STANDARD  MOTION-PICTURE  PROJECTOR  EQUIPPED  WITH  COLOR-WHEEL 
ATTACHMENT  SHOWN  IN  LOWER  VIEW 


276  Pictures  in  Natural  Colors 

part  of  the  operator.  The  former  system  of  this  concern  has 
been  described  only  to  explain  how  apparently  black-and-white 
film  can  be  converted  into  colors  on  the  screen. 

For  scenic  films  and  industrial  films  and  educational  films, 
the  color  film  has  no  doubt  a  large  and  useful  application.  When 
it  comes  to  photoplays,  however,  its  application  at  present  must 
necessarily  be  slow.  Millions  of  dollars  are  invested  in  equip- 
ment for  black-and-white  photoplays,  and  to  throw  away  the 
better  part  of  all  this  for  the  production  of  color  photoplays 
would  mean  something  like  a  complete  revolution  of  the  industry. 
In  fact,  directors  and  producers  have  pointed  out  time  and  again 
the  difficulty  of  producing  pictures  in  color.  New  technicalities 
are  immediately  met  with  when  color  photoplays  are  attempted: 
color  schemes  must  be  watched;  backgrounds  have  to  be  ar- 
tistically painted;  actor  makeup  must  be  revolutionized;  lighting 
schemes  have  to  be  changed;  camera  difficulties  multiply,  and 
so  on. 

The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  color  photoplays  are  being 
sidestepped  by  the  leading  producers.  They  admit  that  color 
photoplays  are  better  than  black-and-white;  but  why  borrow  a 
big  bag  of  unknown  troubles  when  the  public  appears  so  well 
satisfied  with  the  present  films?  they  ask. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


FILMING  THE  WORLD  INVISIBLE 


rjlHE  PARTNERSHIP  of  microscope  and  motion- 
#  picture  camera  has  contributed  no  end  of  marvelous 
subjects  to  the  screen .  Years  ago  the  first  microscopic 
subjects  were  filmed  at  the  Marey  Institute  in  Paris—that 
institution  which  has  contributed  so  much  toward  the 
development  of  motion  pictures  and  the  broad  field  of 
science.  Since  then  similar  pictures  have  been  made  in 
various  countries^  particularly  the  United  States  of  late. 
Typical  of  this  class  of  film  is  the  work  of  the  young  Amerf- 
can  producer  whose  work  is  about  to  be  described.  His  is 
an  unusually  interesting  work.  He  directs  microscopic 
players  on  a  stage  varying  from  1-64  to  %  ir^ch  square! 
And  his  players  only  have  to  ''act  natural;'*  for  it  is  their 
normal  selves  and  mode  of  living  in  which  the  audience  is 
interested. 


278  Filming  the  World  Invisible 

A  DROP  of  water  taken  from  a  stagnant  pond  is  rich  in 
motion-picture  possibilities.  To  be  sure,  it  does  not 
present  extraordinary  promise  when  viewed  with  the 
naked  eye,  but  under  the  critical  gaze  of  the  microscope  a  new 
world  is  thrown  open  to  the  camera.  For,  with  the  drop  of  water 
as  the  "location,"  and  with  the  myriads  of  micro-organisms  for 
the  cast,  there  are  comedies  and  dramas  and  educational  features 
without  end  for  the  motion-picture  screen. 

For  us  the  filming  of  micro-organisms  is  a  novelty.  Previous 
to  the  war  this  class  of  motion-picture  photography  was  practi- 
cally a  French  and  Italian  monopoly;  and  from  the  splendidly 
equipped  laboratories  of  the  French  and  Italian  producers  there 
issued  reel  after  reel  of  wonderful  subjects  depicting  the  activities 
of  the  invisible  world.  The  demand  for  such  films  in  America 
was  inconsiderable  then;  certainly  out  of  all  proportion  to  the 
expense  and  trouble  involved ;  hence  our  producers  gave  no  further 
thought  to  the  micro-photoplay.  But  with  the  increasing  interest 
in  popular  scientific  films  conditions  have  changed.  Indeed,  we 
have  been  obliged  to  undertake  the  task,  difficult  as  it  is;  and 
to-day  the  presentation  of  American-made  micro-photoplays  in 
many  of  our  theaters  is  ample  evidence  of  our  success. 

DIRECTING   AMOEBAE,    RHIZOPODS   AND   THE   LIKE 

One  would  suppose  that  the  micro-photoplay  studio  would  be 
located  in  the  country,  with  Nature  close  at  hand.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  however,  the  majority  of  films  of  this  kind  are  being  made 
in  a  glass-encased  studio  on  the  roof  of  a  New  York  skyscraper, 
far  from  any  trace  of  Nature  unless  it  be  the  sun  and  clouds  above. 
To  this  studio  are  brought  the  various  samples  of  stagnant  water 
and  insects  and  other  subjects  to  be  filmed.  They  arrive  in  small 
vials,  test  tubes,  large  bottles  and  pill-boxes ;  in  truth,  the  trans- 
portation problem  is  so  readily  solved  in  the  case  of  these  little 
performers  that  the  studio  can  be  located  almost  anywhere. 
That  is  why  it  is  found  in  the  metropolitan  district,  where  other 
advantages  are  greatest. 

The  first  qualification  of  the  micro-photoplay  director  is  that 
he  must  be  a  born  naturalist:  he  must  not  only  be  intensely  mter- 
ested  in  all  forms  of  animal  life,  but  must  be  intimately  familiar 
with  the  subject.    He  must  be  ingenious,  too,  for  the  filming  of 


280  Filming  the  World  Invisible 

the  little  performers  calls  for  no  mean  ability  at  times.  He  must 
be  a  skilled  photographer,  for  in  the  main  the  work  is  one  of 
photography.  And,  of  course,  he  must  know  what  is  interesting 
to  the  public  and  know  how  to  tell  a  story  in  pictures  so  that 
it  will  be  entertaining  and  instructive. 

All  of  these  qualifications  are  possessed  by  a  certain  young  man 
of  New  York  City,  who  is  directing  the  micro-photoplays  in  the 
skyscraper  studio.  Born  and  raised  on  the  farm,  a  student  of 
natural  history,  a  press  photographer  for  many  years,  a  maga- 
zine correspondent,  a  motion-picture  cameraman,  this  young  man 
happens  to  be  the  fortunate  combination  for  such  work.  Most 
important  of  all,  his  hobby  is  natural  history. 

For  some  time  past  our  friend  has  been  filming  micro-organisms 
for  the  lay  audience.  Starting  with  the  simplest  form  of  animal 
life,  namely,  the  amoeba  or  simple  cell,  he  and  his  assistants,  in 
cooperation  with  the  American  Museum  of  Natural  History, 
have  been  progressing  with  a  series  of  films  which,  when  com- 
pleted, will  represent  all  stages  of  animal  life.  All  indications  at 
present  are  that  the  work  will  require  years,  for  it  is  perforce  ex- 
ceedingly slow  and  painstaking. 

The  day  the  author  called  on  the  micro-photoplay  director  he 
happened  to  have  three  small  aquaria  on  the  laboratory  table. 
One  of  these  contained  water  taken  from  the  Bronx  river,  another 
from  a  pond  near  Flushing,  L.  I.,  the  third  from  a  pool  in  the 
woods  near  Tenafly,  N.  J.  Beyond  a  doubt  the  last  was  the 
pride  of  the  laboratory ;  for,  as  he  explained,  he  had  walked  five 
miles  along  the  Palisades  the  previous  Sunday  in  search  of  this 
particular  fluid — a  slimy  water,  rich  in  animal  fife. 

Plunging  a  glass  tube  into  the  Tenafly  sample,  he  explored 
some  silt  at  the  bottom  until  he  evidently  found  what  he  was 
after.  Then  placing  a  finger  on  the  free  end  of  the  tube,  he  re- 
moved it  from  the  aquarium  and  released  its  contents  on  a  micro- 
scope slide.  A  moment  later  he  was  studying  the  same  under  a 
microscope.  Then  he  asked  the  author  to  examine  a  splendid 
specimen  of  rotifer  vulgaris,  which  at  that  moment  was  working 
its  paddle-like  head  so  as  to  suck  food  into  its  mouth  much  after 
the  plan  of  a  vacuum  cleaner  passing  over  a  dusty  carpet. 


STRIPS    OF    FILM    AND    A    SCENE    FROM    A  MICROSCOPIC  MOTION  PICTURE 
PRODUCED  IN  NEW  YORK  CITY 


282  Filming  the  World  Invisible 


LIGHT  ! — CAMERA  ! — ACTION  ! 

It  is  a  long  step  from  examining  a  specimen  under  the  micro- 
scope to  making  a  motion  picture  of  it.  The  mechanical  diffi- 
culties are  many  fold,  though  in  principle  one  simply  replaces  the 
reflecting  mirror  with  a  powerful  source  of  artificial  light,  and 
the  human  eye  with  the  camera.  In  practice,  however,  the  work 
is  carried  out  in  this  manner: 

The  director,  after  preparing  the  microscope  slide  in  the  usual 
manner  and  placing  it  on  the  stage  of  the  microscope,  which  is 
then  in  position  on  the  steel  bench  or  photographic  stand,  adjusts 
his  instrument  until  the  desired  view  is  obtained.  The  slide,  of 
course,  is  provided  with  a  cover  glass  so  that  it  can  be  tilted  to 
any  position.  Then  the  microscope  is  turned  horizontally,  and  its 
eye-piece  and  reflecting  mirror  are  removed.  The  former  is  re- 
placed by  a  motion-picture  camera  the  lens  of  which  has  been 
removed,  while  the  reflecting  mirror  is  now  represented  by  a  pow- 
erful lantern  fitted  with  condensers,  supplementary  condensers 
and  special  color  filters. 

For  this  interesting  and  unusual  work  a  Moy  camera  is  em- 
ployed, which  is  provided  with  a  peep-hole  at  the  back  through 
which  the  image  can  be  seen  on  the  film,  in  greatly  magnified 
form.  So  by  providing  the  camera  with  a  light-proof  hood  or 
cover  it  is  possible  for  the  camera  operator  to  watch  the  subject 
while  the  pictures  are  being  made  and  to  focus  at  any  instant  if 
conditions  are  altered.  What  is  more,  by  means  of  this  method  it 
becomes  possible  to  follow  a  performer  about  the  slide  by  the 
usual  movements  of  the  microscope  stage,  just  as  the  outdoor 
cameraman  can  follow  a  player  about  the  scene  by  turning  the 
cranks  of  his  tripod. 

So  sensitive  are  the  animalcules  that  they  can  be  left  only  for  a 
short  period  in  the  strong  light  necessary  to  photograph  them.  As 
a  general  rule  a  film  must  be  made  in  forty  to  fifty  seconds,  and 
an  extension  of  the  period  generally  results  in  killing  the  little 
performers.  In  one  case,  however,  200  feet  of  film  was  made  at  a 
stretch,  but  this  is  exceptional.  Obviously,  this  fact  makes  for 
quick  action  once  the  actual  filming  is  started;  and  our  young 
director  is  of  the  opinion  that  once  he  attempts  to  film  still  more 
sensitive  micro-organisms,  it  will  be  necessary  to  use  a  shutter 
in  the  path  of  light  so  as  to  provide  intervals  of  rest  for  the 


t'/*  *^-i'- 

■#-^ 

jr 

*. 

ABOVE:     THE    ACTINOSPHERIUM    DIGESTING   WHITE   WATER   MITE.      BOT- 
TOM:    ROTIFER  VULGARIS.      BOTH   ARE  ENLARGED  400  DIAMETERS 


284  Filming  the  World  Invisible 

subjects.  The  French  in  some  of  their  work,  particuh\rly  films 
showing  blood  corpuscles  and  disease  germs,  have  made  use  of  a 
shutter  operating  in  synchronism  with  the  camera  shutter,  so 
that  the  specimens  have  intervals  of  rest  instead  of  being  sub- 
jected to  continuous  light  and  heat. 

Special  types  of  condensers  of  the  liquid  variety,  making  use  of 
different  chemicals,  have  also  proved  a  great  help  in  bettering  the 
photographic  conditions  and  increasing  the  longevity  of  the 
micro-organisms  by  absorbing  some  of  the  heat  of  the  light. 

PRISON   CELLS  AND  STRAIT-JACKETS  FOR  FRIVOLOUS   PLAYERS 

In  justice  to  animalcules  as  a  class  be  it  said  that  they  are  usu- 
ally willing  enough  to  be  filmed;  for  being  slow  of  movement  it 
is  a  simple  matter  to  keep  them  in  the  field  of  the  camera.  And 
even  if  they  should  suddenly  succumb  to  an  attack  of  the  wander- 
lust, their  movements  can  be  readily  followed  by  shifting  the 
stage  of  the  microscope  as  already  described,  all  the  while  watch- 
ing the  image  through  the  peep-hole  of  the  camera.  But  oc- 
casionally the  director  is  confronted  with  a  frivolous  performer — 
one  that  insists  on  scampering  about  in  the  most  disconcerting 
manner. 

While  it  may  be  true  that  a  drop  of  water  is  not  a  very  large 
area  in  the  usual  sense  of  the  word,  when  the  high  power  micro- 
scope is  applied  to  it  the  area  is  magnified  until  it  corresponds 
to  a  pond  of  respectable  size  as  seen  with  the  naked  eye.  So  when 
the  animalcule  decides  to  saunter  off  to  parts  unknown  the  search 
is  not  unlike  that  of  trying  to  locate  a  small  fish  in  a  large  pond, 
or  the  proverbial  needle  in  the  haystack. 

Right  here,  however,  is  where  the  director's  ingenuity  comes 
into  action.  For  he  provides  for  just  such  an  occasion  by  keeping 
on  hand  a  number  of  thin  aluminum  strips  in  which  he  has 
punched  a  square  or  round  hole.  By  placing  an  aluminum  strip 
on  a  slide  so  as  to  box  in  the  specimen,  he  effectively  limits  the 
field  of  operations  to  the  field  of  camera  vision  when  the  actual 
filming  takes  place.  No  matter  where  the  performer's  fancy  may 
then  take  him,  he  is  still  within  the  range  of  the  camera,  securely 
penned  in  by  an  aluminum  fence. 

Again  there  are  times  when  the  anatomy  of  a  specimen  is  to  be 
filmed.    In  this  case  it  is  essential  to  have  the  specimen  remain 


THE    VORTICELLA    OR    BELL    ANIMALCULE    EXTENDED    AND    THEN    CON. 
TRACTED   AFTER   BEING   DISTURBED.      400   DIAMETERS 


286  Filming  the  World  Invisible 


in  one  position.  Some  specimens  are  quite  docile  in  this  con- 
nection, while  others  are  not.  The  latter  are  soon  tamed,  how- 
ever, by  the  resourceful  director.  He  makes  use  of  a  special  slide 
which  has  two  glasses — a  fixed  bottom  glass  and  an  adjustable 
top  one.  The  latter  is  mounted  in  a  threaded  ring  which  screws 
on  a  hollow  stud,  so  that  by  turning  the  top  glass  it  is  brought 
closer  and  closer  to  the  bottom  glass  while  maintaining  at  all 
times  the  parallel  arrangement.  The  obstreperous  performer  is 
placed  in  this  chamber  of  horrors,  so  to  speak,  and  as  in  the  fa- 
miliar lithographs  of  by-gone  melodramas  the  moving  wall  gradu- 
ally closes  in  on  him.  But  in  this  case  the  movement  is  stopped 
when  the  specimen  is  slightly  squeezed,  there  being  no  desire  to 
crush  him. 

In  photographing  mosquito  larvae  a  little  trough  was  con- 
structed in  which  to  place  the  specimens.  This  consisted  merely 
of  the  usual  slide  on  which  was  cemented  another  sheet  of  glass 
provided  with  a  half-circle  notch,  and  then  another  glass  to  cover 
the  notch.  In  this  manner  a  pond-like  section  was  provided  for 
the  stage  setting,  and  when  filled,  the  mosquito  larvae,  swimming 
about  the  water  and  coming  up  to  the  surface  for  air,  were  fol- 
lowed by  the  adjustments  on  the  microscope  stage. 

One  of  the  micro-photoplay  director's  invariable  habits  is  to 
look  after  the  welfare  of  his  invisible  performers.  After  a  scene 
is  filmed  he  dismantles  the  stage  or  microscope  slide  and  returns 
the  drop  of  water  with  its  charges  to  the  aquarium  whence  it  was 
originally  drawn.  Obviously,  it  would  be  simpler  to  shake  the 
drop  of  water  on  the  floor  or  to  wipe  it  off  with  a  towel  or  hand- 
kerchief. That  would  be  the  common  procedure.  But  not  so 
with  this  director.  Perhaps  it  is  sentiment  or  perhaps  it  is 
force  of  habit  which  moves  him  to  return  the  micro-organisms  to 
their  glass-bound  world;  but  however  that  may  be,  the  fact 
stands  that  the  performers,  none  the  worse  from  their  appearance 
before  the  motion-picture  camera,  are  kept  alive  and  ready  for 
another  call  when  this  humane  course  is  followed. 

The  micro-photoplay  has  a  big  field  to  draw  upon,  aside  from 
studies  of  animal  life.  In  chemistry  we  may  exhibit  the  forma- 
tion of  crystals  and  other  marvels.  Just  as  the  French  and 
TtaHans  have  already  done,  it  is  possible  to  show  various  disease 
germs  and  how  they  affect  the  human  system.    The  circulation 


5§ 

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Filming  the  World  Invisible 


of  blood  can  be  filmed  as  well  as  other  micro-organisms  which 
enter  into  our  lives.  Surely,  we  have  but  scratched  the  surface. 
Much  can  be  expected  in  this  latest  field  of  American  cinematog- 
raphy in  the  no  distant  future.  i 


CHAPTER   XV. 


PICTURES  THAT  TALK  AND  SING 


f^  M  jHE  TALKING  picture  has  always  labored  under  an 
i  unlucky  star.  It  was  introduced  to  the  public  long 
■^  before  it  had  developed  to  full  maturity  in  the 
laboratory;  crude  makeshifts^  incorporating  the  phono- 
graph with  its  metallic  and  poorly  articulated  speech,  and 
the  standard  motion-picture  film,  were  widely  advertised 
and  exhibited  in  theatres  to  a  curious  public.  The  phono- 
graph and  pictures  failed  to  work  in  harmony,  in  many 
instances;  consequently,  the  talking  picture  scored  an 
ignominious  failure.  The  public,  which  always  judges 
by  the  first  impression,  became  possessed  of  the  idea  that 
talking  pictures  are  a  crude  experiment,  an  interesting 
but  impractical  scientific  toy.  But  the  talking  picture,  in 
more  recent  forms,  has  vast  possibilities.  It  is  gathering 
strength  in  the  laboratory.  When  the  proper  time  comes, 
it  will  soon  live  down  its  unfortunate  past. 


290 Pictures  That  Talk  and  Sing 

A  CLEAR,  stereoscopic,  flickerless  image  on  the  screen,  in 
natural  colors,  accompanied  by  a  true  and  convincing 
reproduction  of  the  sounds  emitted  by  the  subjects  ap- 
pearing before  the  eyes,  the  successive  images  and  sound  waves 
being  in  perfect  synchronism — that,  in  brief,  describes  the  even- 
tual goal  of  cinematography.  In  other  words,  absolute  realism  is 
the  ideal;  and  everything  that  does  not  quite  come  up  to  the  ideal 
is  but  temporary  and  can  only  be  considered  as  a  milestone  in  the 
steady  progress  of  the  art. 

Inventors  certainly  cannot  be  accused  of  not  having  devoted 
sufficient  thought  and  energy  and  resources  to  the  talking  picture; 
for  after  the  natural-color  motion  picture  the  coupling  of  the 
phonograph  with  the  motion  picture  has  attracted  significant 
numbers  of  ingenious  inventors  in  every  leading  country.  And 
why  not?  Given  a  more  or  less  perfect  means  of  reproducing 
action  on  the  screen  and  a  more  or  less  perfect  means  of  repro- 
ducing sounds,  inventors  have  been  encouraged  to  couple  the  two 
into  a  successful  and  revolutionizing  form  of  entertainment. 

But  the  problem,  simple  as  it  seems  at  first,  is  a  most  difficult 
and  baffling  one.  For  one  thing,  there  is  the  question  of  develop- 
ing suitable  means  of  synchronizing  the  pictures  and  the  sounds, 
for  it  is  quite  obvious  that  they  must  be  in  perfect  step,  so  to 
speak.  And  even  if  the  question  is  satisfactorily  answered,  the 
greatly  amplified  sounds  from  the  conventional  phonograph, 
which  would  be  required  to  fill  a  large  theater,  are  far  from 
realistic.  Lastly,  how  is  one  going  to  secure  a  continuous  sound 
record  for  a  film  1,000,  2,000  or  even  5,000  feet  long?  In  these 
days  of  feature  productions  of  five  reels  or  more,  with  scene  after 
scene  flashed  on  without  a  break  or  delay  of  any  kind,  there  can 
be  no  such  thing  as  changing  records.  A  "One  Minute  to  Change 
the  Records"  sign  would  not  be  tolerated. 

SOME    SCHEMES    THAT    HAVE   BEEN    TRIED 

The  simplest  talking  picture  is  obviously  the  combination  of 
a  simple  phonograph  and  a  motion-picture  projector.  The  phono- 
graph, placed  near  the  actors,  registers  the  sounds  while  the 
camera  is  recording  the  action.  The  difficulty  of  securing  good 
sound  records  is  great,  since  in  the  usual  phonographic  recording 
studio  the  singers  are  placed  but  a  foot  or  so  away  from  the  sound 


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292  Pictures  That  Talk  and  Sing 

horn  of  the  recorder.  But  in  talking  pictures  tlie  recorder  would 
perforce  have  to  be  placed  many  feet  away  so  as  not  to  interfere 
with  the  pictures. 

Again,  there  is  the  matter  of  synchronism,  and  therein  lies  the 
main  difference  between  the  hundreds  of  schemes  which  have  been 
suggested  from  time  to  time  in  the  past,  with  the  phonograph 
and  motion  picture  for  the  basis.  The  picture  and  the  sound 
record  must  be  kept  in  step,  for  otherwise  the  effect  is  ruined  and 
the  entertainment  soon  becomes  ludicrous.  The  writer  has  in 
mind  a  talking  picture  produced  some  eight  years  ago.  It  was  a 
scene  from  Julius  Caesar — the  quarrel  scene,  to  be  exact.  One  of 
the  characters  suddenly  sheathed  his  sword,  and  a  few  seconds 
later  came  the  commanding  voice  from  the  phonograph  some- 
where behind  the  screen,  saying:  "Sheathe  thy  sword,  Brutus!" 
The  audience  roared,  of  course. 

At  some  time  or  other  the  film  must  have  been  torn  and  then 
mended ;  and  in  the  latter  operation  several  feet  had  been  omitted. 
But  the  sound  record  remained  unaltered,  for  the  reason  that 
there  was  no  practical  way  of  deleting  a  certain  portion  to  corre- 
spond with  the  deleted  section  of  film.  The  result  was  the  loss 
of  synchronism:  the  action  got  considerably  ahead  of  the  sound 
record. 

So  it  has  been  with  many  phonograph-projector  schemes.  One 
of  the  reasons  for  their  poor  showing  in  the  workaday  world  has 
been  the  necessity  of  placing  the  phonograph  close  to  the  screen, 
in  order  to  have  the  sounds  come  from  the  front  of  the  theater 
where  the  pictures  were  being  shown.  The  projector  has  been 
placed  at  the  rear  of  the  theater,  following  the  usual  practice. 
Now  with  the  two  components  of  the  system  separated  by  several 
hundred  feet,  the  difficulty  of  synchronizing  them  has  been  very 
great.  Elaborate  timing  arrangements,  synchronized  motors, 
loud-speaking  telephone  circuits  and  other  schemes  have  been 
oried  with  poor  results  as  a  general  thing;  for  even  with  fair 
timing  it  has  not  been  possible  to  take  care  of  the  break  in  the 
film  which,  as  is  at  once  apparent,  could  not  be  compensated  be- 
cause it  was  not  practicable  to  eliminate  a  corresponding  portion 
of  the  sound  record.  Jumping  the  sound  record  a  bit  in  order 
to  keep  up  with  the  film  has  not  always  been  feasible,  and  lagging 
the  film  in  order  to  have  the  sound  record  catch  up  with  it  has 


GENERAL    AND     CLOSE-UP     VIEW     OF    THE     CAMERA    USED    IN    MAKU^G 
TALKING-PICTURE  FILMS 


294  Pictures  That  Talk  and  Sing 

called  for  much  skill  on  the  part  of  the  operator.  And  that  is  a 
matter  of  introducing  the  human  element— the  questionable  fac- 
tor which  is  constantly  being  reduced  in  motion-picture  practice 
— on  a  vast  scale;  and  that  feature  alone  has  counted  heavily 
against  such  systems.  Above  all,  the  successful  talking  picture 
will  be  fool-proof;  nothing  will  be  expected  of  the  operator. 

Aiming  at  the  elimination  of  synchronizing  separated  com- 
ponents, several  schemes  have  been  tried  in  which  the  sound 
record  and  film  are  combined.  One  of  these  schemes  makes  the 
film  carry  the  sound  record  along  one  edge,  side  by  side  with  the 
pictures.  A  stylus  travels  in  the  groove  on  the  film,  so  that  the 
matter  of  synchronism  at  least  is  solved.  A  similar  scheme  car- 
ries the  sound  record  along  one  edge  of  the  film.  But  both  these 
systems  have  proved  quite  unsatisfactory  from  a  phonographic 
point  of  view,  for  the  sounds  thus  reproduced  are  of  poor  quality 
and  rather  weak  in  volume. 

Talking-picture  systems  have  come  and  gone,  one  after  another. 
Some  have  been  brilliantly  successful  in  the  laboratory,  under 
the  skilled  and  patient  hand  of  the  inventor ;  but  their  commercial 
life  when  at  the  mercy  of  the  average  picture  operator  has  been 
short  indeed. 

Still,  the  talking  picture  must  come  some  day,  and  when  it  does 
it  may  be  largely  based  on  the  principles  incorporated  in  a  typical 
system  about  to  be  described  in  some  detail.  This  system,  which 
is  a  composite  of  many  ideas  suggested  by  numerous  inventors 
in  the  past,  has  been  tried  out  in  England  and  in  France  with  fair 
success.  But  complicated  it  is,  and  much  remains  in  the  way  of 
refinement  before  it  can  ever  become  a  commercial  success. 

TRANSLATING    SOUNDS   INTO   BLACK   AND   WHITE 

The  typical  talking-picture  system  we  have  selected  to  illus- 
trate the  cine-phono  possibilities  replaces  the  usual  phonograph 
with  a  photographic  method  of  recording  sound;  and  a  selenium 
cell  and  telephone  system  act  as  the  reproducer  for  translating 
the  photographic  record  back  into  sound  waves.  No  stylus  of 
any  kind  is  employed ;  in  fact,  there  are  no  mechanical  movements 
employed  in  reproducing  the  sound  other  than  the  constant  travel 
of  the  film  past  the  selenium  cell.  The  sound  waves  can  be  repro- 
duced with  the  utmost  fidelity ;  and  since  they  are  placed  on  the 


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296  Pictures  That  Talk  and  Sing 

same  film  as  their  corresponding  images,  the  synchronism  be- 
tween the  two  is  absolute  and  rigid.  Furthermore,  the  sound 
records  can  be  made  in  any  length,  just  as  motion-picture  films 
can  be  made  in  practically  any  length  by  cementing  separate 
strips  together. 

In  making  a  talking  picture  of  a  scene  with  this  method,  the 
players  are  not  obliged  to  talk  into  a  horn,  as  is  customary  when 
phonographs  are  employed.  Sensitive  microphones  are  distrib- 
uted about  the  scene,  either  out  of  range  of  the  camera  or  art- 
fully camouflaged  by  a  bouquet  of  flowers,  under  a  lamp  shade, 
behind  a  picture  frame,  under  a  table,  or  in  any  other  suitable 
manner,  to  record  the  sounds ;  and  the  players  not  being  constantly 
reminded  by  a  huge  horn  that  they  are  being  ''registered"  for 
utterances  as  well  as  for  actions,  retain  greater  freedom  for  their 
work.  Then,  too,  the  actors  are  not  limited  to  a  small  stage,  as 
must  be  the  case  when  the  usual  phonographic  recorder  is  em- 
ployed. 

The  sound  waves,  impinging  on  the  microphones,  are  trans- 
ferred to  a  circuit  which  includes  a  storage  battery  and  a  highly 
sensitive  string-galvanometer.  The  string  or  wire  of  the  galvano- 
meter is  suspended  in  the  fleld  of  powerful  electromagnets,  and 
the  slightest  fluctuations  in  the  current  passing  through  it  causes 
an  immediate  and  considerable  distortion.  A  beam  of  light  from 
a  powerful  arc  lamp  rigidly  mounted  at  the  rear  of  the  camera 
passes  through  the  galvanometer  and,  in  greatly  magnified  form, 
throws  a  shadow  of  the  wire  on  a  steadily  moving  film  behind 
a  narrow  horizontal  slit.  The  wire  being  so  arranged  that  one 
side  of  the  exposed  film  is  always  in  the  shadow,  the  developed 
film  shows  a  straight  edge  and  a  series  of  "peaks"  quite  suggestive 
of  a  profile  map  of  a  mountain  range. 

The  camera  for  making  talking  pictures  is  of  necessity  much 
larger  and  more  complicated  than  the  standard  apparatus,  for  it 
must  record  the  pictures  and  the  sound  waves  at  the  same  time. 
The  front  part  of  the  camera  is  devoted  to  the  usual  camera 
mechanism,  while  the  rear  includes  the  arc  lamp  and  the  galvano- 
meter. The  movement  of  the  film  through  the  camera  mechanism 
is  intermittent,  at  the  rate  of  20  pictures  per  second,  while  through 
the  sound-recording  member  it  is  continuous,  and  for  that  reason 
it  is  not  feasible  to  reproduce  the  images  and  sound  record  exactly 


m 

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M..m.m:m:m.m..m 


EXPERlMEiN 


KOJECTOR   FOR   TALKING    PICTURES,    AND   A   STRIP    OF 
TYPICAL   FILM   WITH   SOUND   RECORD 


298  Pictures  That  Talk  and  Sing 

opposite  each  other.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  sound  record  is 
some  six  inches  ahead  of  the  image  it  represents.  This,  however, 
is  not  a  disadvantage  in  practice,  for  even  when  sphces  are  made 
in  the  film  the  same  amount  of  both  pictures  and  sound  record 
are  deleted  so  that  the  synchronism  is  not  affected. 

The  galvanometer  is  the  heart  of  the  sound  recorder,  hence 
much  attention  has  been  centered  on  this  member.  In  the  earlier 
forms  a  single  wire  was  employed,  which  made  a  record  similar 
to  that  shown  in  the  accompanying  strip  of  film.  The  upper  part 
of  the  wire  passes  through  an  oil  bath,  which  dampens  the  move- 
ments to  the  required  degree.  Means  are  provided  for  opening 
the  instrument  and  readily  replacing  the  wire  should  any  harm 
befall  it,  and  there  is  also  provision  for  adjusting  the  wire  to  the 
pitch  best  suited  for  the  sound  record  to  be  made. 

In  a  more  recent  form  of  galvanometer  two  wires  are  employed. 
When  current  passes  through  these  wires  their  usual  parallel 
arrangement  is  disturbed  as  they  move  away  from  each  other 
in  direct  proportion  to  the  strength  of  the  current.  The  resulting 
sound  record  is  a  double  row  of  "peaks,"  with  the  points  facing 
each  other.  Presently  the  advantages  of  the  double  row  will  be 
discussed. 

A   MATERIAL  THAT  IS   AFFECTED  BY  LIGHT 

Given  a  film  of  varying  intensity,  or  of  constantly  changing 
proportions  of  opaque  and  transparent  sections,  one  has  but  to 
pass  it  continuously  before  a  selenium  cell  in  order  to  vary  the 
strength  of  the  electric  circuit  in  which  is  included  some  form  of 
telephone  receiver.  At  least,  so  runs  the  theory;  and  in  practice 
it  is  about  the  same  except  that  certain  difficulties  have  to  be  met 
and  mastered.  Selenium,  it  may  be  added,  is  a  metal  that  pos- 
sesses the  rare  characteristic  of  altering  its  electrical  conductivity 
according  to  the  amount  of  light  falling  upon  it.  In  various  ways 
the  selenium  material  can  be  prepared  into  so-called  selenium 
cells,  thereby  becoming  extremely  sensitive  to  varying  degrees 
of  light. 

In  projecting  the  talking  pictures  the  film  is  first  passed  inter- 
mittently through  the  usual  motion-picture  projector  at  the  rate 
of  20  images  per  second  instead  of  the  usual  16,  and  then  in  a 
continuous  movement  through  the  sound  reproducer.    A  powerful 


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300  Pictures  That  Talk  and  Sing 

source  of  light,  preferably  an  arc  lamp,  is  gathered  into  a  narrow 
beam  and  projected  through  the  sound-bearing  section  of  the  film 
and  upon  the  selenium  cell,  thus  throwing  a  shadow  on  the  latter. 
In  the  present  apparatus  a  remarkably  sensitive  selenium  cell  is 
used.  It  has  a  range  of  resistance  of  from  1,000  to  100,000  ohms, 
and  this  characteristic  has  much  to  do  with  the  faithful  repro- 
duction of  the  sounds.  As  the  film  is  rapidly  moved  past  the 
selenium  cell  and  the  beam  of  light,  the  resistance  of  the  electric 
current  passing  through  the  selenium  cell  is  altered  in  proportion 
to  the  amount  of  light  and  shadow  cast  by  the  film. 

With  a  single  row  of  sound  "peaks"  it  was  found  that  only  a 
small  portion  of  the  selenium  cell  was  called  upon  to  do  the  work, 
the  other  portion  being  always  in  the  shadow.  By  using  two  rows, 
however,  a  larger  area  of  the  selenium  cell  is  utilized,  making  for 
better  results. 

The  remainder  of  the  reproducing  process  is  simple.  A  sensitive 
telephonic  relay  is  employed  in  circuit  with  the  selenium  cell  and 
battery,  while  a  loud-speaking  telephone  with  its  own  battery 
is  operated  in  the  secondary  circuit.  Thus  the  sound  record  of  the 
film  is  converted  into  sound  waves  which  are  propagated  through- 
out a  theater  while  the  pictures  are  appearing  on  the  screen. 

That,  in  brief,  is  the  basis  of  a  practicable  talking  picture.  It 
may  be  that  the  principles  involved  will  some  day  form  the  basis 
of  a  commercial  system;  then  again,  inventors  may  hit  upon  a 
new  combination  that  may  hold  far  more  promise,  thus  causing 
this  one  to  be  abandoned.  But  to-day,  with  what  has  already 
gone  before  in  the  way  of  talking-picture  systems,  the  typical 
method  described  seems  to  be  the  nearest  approach  to  the  ideal 
sought.  At  any  rate,  it  may  serve  as  a  model  for  all  who  would 
work  on  the  talking  picture. 


CHAPTER   XVI 


CARTOONS  THAT  MOVE  AND 
SCULPTURE  THAT  LIVES 


/T  IS  generally  said  thai  we  as  a  people  have  lilile 
patience;  we  seek  the  most  profit  from  the  minimum 
effort  in  business  undertakings.  However  that  may 
be  in  other  industries  and  arts,  it  fails  to  hold  true  in  the 
mot  ion-picture  field.  For  no  country  in  the  world  has  gone 
into  the  product iori  of  animated  cartoons^  sculpture  and 
dolls  as  have  American  film  folk.  Some  firms  specialize 
exclusively  in  animated  subjects^  which  require  weeks 
upon  weeks  of  tedious  and  painstaking  work  to  complete 
a  single  reel.  Yet,  despite  all  the  tedium  involved  in  such 
productions,  the  Americans  lead  the  world  in  this  category 
of  films y  both  in  volume  and  in  ideas. 


302  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home 

TO  prepare  thousands  of  pen-and-ink  cartoons,  each  a  sepa- 
rate and  distinct  drawing,  and  then  photograph  them  one 
at  a  time  on  a  strip  of  motion-picture  film,  is  the  task 
confronting  the  cartoonist  who  would  amuse  theater-goers  by 
animating  his  work.  And  this  is  only  the  mechanical  part  of  his 
newly  found  work;  there  remain  numerous  other  details  in  the 
making  of  animated  cartoons  which,  together  with  those  men- 
tioned, make  the  undertaking  anything  but  a  sinecure.  Perhaps 
the  film  requires  a  month  or  more  in  the  making ;  yet  on  the  screen 
it  may  take  less  than  a  third  of  an  hour  to  put  the  cartoon  char- 
acters through  their  pntics.    But  why  the  vast  amount  of  work? 

FIRST   THE   IDEA,   THEN   THE   WORK 

Somewhere  in  the  downtown  section  of  New  York  city  is  the 
home  of  many  miles  of  animated  cartoons  produced  by  a  well- 
known  cartoonist  whose  work  in  the  daily  press  alone  is  known 
to  hundreds  of  thousands  of  newspaper  readers  the  world  over. 
Years  ago  he  might  have  enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being  alone  in 
his  work;  but  to-day  there  are  many  other  cartoonists  working 
for  the  screen.  However  that  may  be,  the  methods  of  this  car- 
toonist are  so  typical  of  those  of  his  fraternity  that  they  may 
well  serve  for  all. 

Ideas  are  the  big  thing  in  any  kind  of  cartoon  work,  we  are  told 
by  the  New  York  cartoonist.  Everything  else  is  secondary — a 
means  to  an  end,  as  it  were.  For,  given  "a  good  idea,  the  remainder 
of  the  work  is  little  more  than  a  matter  of  routine,  with  occasional 
calls  for  ingenuity  in  the  way  of  either  reducing  the  work  in- 
volved when  such  is  possible,  or  of  securing  unusual  and  clever 
effects.  So  it  is  primarily  a  matter  of  getting  a  good  idea,  then 
working  out  the  story  with  its  many  details  and  situations,  and 
finally  entering  into  the  mechanical  processes. 

Because  an  animated  cartoon  film  tells  its  story  by  means  of 
drawings,  its  production  is  a  matter  of  preparing  thousands  of 
drawings  to  carry  out  the  creator's  idea.  The  animation  of  a 
picture  calls  for  a  large  number  of  separate  drawings,  each  a  trifle 
different  from  its  predecessor  so  as  to  represent  progressive  ac- 
tion; and  it  is  in  knowing  just  how  different  to  make  the  suc- 
cessive pictures  that  much  skill  and  experience  and  ingenuity  are 
called  upon.     This,  the  all-important  task,  is  entrusted  to  one 


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304  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home 

who  is  the  master  artist;  the  other  work  is  relegated  to  a  large 
staff  of  assistants. 

The  various  backgrounds  of  an  animated  cartoon  are  drawn 
but  once  wherever  possible,  for  it  would  obviously  involve  a  p;reat 
volume  of  unnecessary  work  if  each  drawing  included  its  own 
background.  On  the  other  hand  the  moving  figures  must  each 
be  drawn  over  and  over  again  in  progressive  positions,  with  each 
successive  drawing  slightly  different  in  order  to  convey  the  proper 
illusion  when  flashed  rapidly  on  the  screen  in  the  proper  order 
of  sequence.  The  sheets,  on  which  are  drawn  the  animated  ob- 
jects, are  used  in  conjunction  with  the  different  backgrounds  so 
as  to  make  a  complete  cartoon.  Sometimes  the  background  is  in 
the  form  of  a  sheet  of  transparent  celluloid,  especially  if  the  ani- 
mated figures  pass  back  of  the  objects  pictured  on  the  celluloid, 
or  keep  in  the  center  of  the  picture,  free  of  the  scenery.  More 
generally,  however,  the  background  is  in  the  form  of  a  border 
covering  certain  parts  of  the  sheet  carrying  the  animated  objects. 
Often  the  latter  is  cut  out  more  or  less  so  that  the  figures  can  be 
made  to  overlap  portions  of  the  background,  so  as  to  give  the 
appearance  of  passing  in  front  of  the  background. 

TRANSLATING    ACTIONS   INTO    SUCCESSIVE   DRAWINGS 

Considerable  artistic  talent  and  knowledge  of  motion  are  requi- 
sites in  the  proper  and  successful  animation  of  a  drawing,  despite 
the  seeming  simplicity  of  the  cartoons  when  viewed  on  the  screen. 
The  movements  of  the  characters  in  an  animated  cartoon  must  be 
convincing  and  at  the  proper  speed.  If  a  man  is  walking  down  a 
street,  for  instance,  the  artist  must  know  how  many  sketches  are 
necessary  to  have  his  character  cover  the  distance  at  the  proper 
gait.  If  he  uses  too  many  sketches,  the  picture  lags;  if  he  uses 
too  few,  the  movements  become  very  jerky  and  quite  trying  on 
the  eyes  of  the  audience.  It  is  therefore  necessary  for  the  master 
artist  to  know  how  to  make  each  drawing  with  relation  to  its 
companion  sketches;  and  his  is  the  part  of  indicating  the  differ- 
ence between  one  drawing  and  the  next  with  a  few  bold  strokes 
of  his  pencil,  leaving  the  detailed  finishing  of  each  drawing  to 
other  members  of  the  staff. 

The  master  artist  works  on  an  easel  consisting  of  a  slanting 
piece  of  frosted  or  ground  glass  held  in  a  suitable  frame  and 


306  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home 

through  which  pass  the  rays  of  an  electric  lamp  placed  below  it. 
Thus  it  is  possible  for  him  to  lay  a  clean  piece  of  paper  over  the 
last  drawing  and  indicate  on  the  former  the  new  or  progressive 
lines  for  the  animation.  And  by  rapidly  waving  one  end  of  the 
new  drawing  while  it  is  still  in  place  over  the  preceding  one,  he 
can  tell  at  a  glance  the  extent  and  correctness  of  the  animation. 
A  considerable  amount  of  thought  must  be  devoted  to  the  audi- 
ence's understanding  of  the  picture.  The  center  of  interest  in  a 
cartoon  must  always  be  played  up  prominently  by  subduing 
other  features.  For  instance,  if  one  of  the  characters  throws  a 
missile,  it  is  necessary  that  there  be  no  further  movement  of  his 
arm  after  the  missile  begins  to  travel  across  the  picture.  The 
character — and  every  other  character  in  the  drawing,  for  that 
matter — must  remain  absolutely  rigid  so  that  the  attention  of 
the  audience  will  not  be  distracted  from  the  missile  which  at  that 
moment  is  the  center  of  interest.  Then  again,  when  a  character 
is  made  to  speak  by  the  introduction  of  what  is  known  as  a 
'^balloon"  within  which  is  hand  lettering,  there  must  be  no  motion 
in  the  cartoon  until  the  audience  has  had  time  to  read  the  legend 
which  then  disappears. 

AGAIN    THE    MATTER   OF   PERFECT   REGISTER 

Perfect  register  is  a  vital  consideration  in  the  preparation  of 
animated  cartoon  drawings,  because  the  tremendous  magnifica- 
tion of  the  films  on  the  screen  makes  even  the  slightest  lack  of 
register  loom  big.  The  pictures,  thrown  at  the  rate  of  sixteen  per 
second,  jump  about  in  the  most  disconcerting  way,  and  eye-strain 
results  among  the  audience,  if  improperly  registered. 

So  it  is  quite  natural  that  the  animated  cartoonists  should  pay 
strict  attention  to  register.  This  they  do  by  having  the  easels 
and  the  photographing  apparatus  arranged  always  to  maintain 
the  different  sheets  of  paper  in  the  same  relative  position.  In 
some  instances  the  sheets  are  perforated  with  two  or  more  holes 
so  as  to  engage  with  pins  or  pegs  on  the  easels  and  on  the  photo- 
graphing stand. 

It  is  the  preparation  of  the  drawings  that  requires  time.  After 
the  master  artist  or  animator  has  indicated  the  changes  from  one 
drawing  to  the  next,  his  assistants  work  out  the  drawings.  Some- 
times these  are  quite  simple  and  can  be  done  in  a  few  minutes' 


•«l 


SIXTEEN  "FRAMES"  OR  IMAGES  OF  ANIMATED  CARTOON  P^ILM,  SHOWING 
THE  PROGRESSIVE  CHANGES  IN  THE  MOVING   FIGURES 


308  Cartoons  That  Move  and  Sculpture  That  Lives 


time,  while  at  other  times  they  are  quite  involved,  calling  for 
special  shading  and  even  special  tints  or  ''wash."  Especially  is 
the  work  tedious  and  time-consuming  when  several  animated 
figures  appear  in  each  drawing,  and  the  process  calls  for  a  com- 
plete drawing  each  time.  While  no  set  of  figures  could  be  offered 
which  would  apply  to  all  animated  cartoonists,  one  of  the  men 
engaged  on  the  staff  of  the  New  York  cartoonist  in  question  turns 
out  on  the  average  about  one  hundred  feet  of  film  per  week,  or 
approximately  sixteen  hundred  finished  drawings.  That,  we  are 
told,  is  a  fair  average. 

The  photographing  of  animated  cartoons  is  a  simple  matter, 
so  to  speak.  It  is  accomplished  by  using  a  motion-picture  camera 
mounted  on  a  substantial  wooden  frame,  with  its  lens  pointing 
straight  downwards.  A  framing  or  registering  device  is  placed 
on  the  table  directly  below  the  camera,  while  on  either  side  are 
mercury-vapor  lamps  which  supply  the  necessary  illumination. 
The  camera  is  electrically-operated  by  pressing  a  push  button  at 
the  side  of  the  photographer.  By  means  of  an  electric  motor 
which  is  running  all  the  while,  and  an  electro-magnetic  clutch, 
each  time  the  push  button  is  pressed  the  camera  is  given  one 
complete  turn  on  the  trick  movement,  or  enough  to  make  one 
exposure. 

The  photographer  assembles  the  backgrounds  and  animated 
drawings  in  their  proper  order,  making  successive  pictures  of  them 
on  the  strip  of  film  by  pressing  the  button  once  for  each  scene  or 
assembly.  With  a  pile  of  drawings  to  be  photographed  to  one 
side  of  him  and  the  background  on  the  framing  device  before  him, 
he  takes  the  drawings  one  after  the  other  and  places  them  in  the 
field  of  the  camera  lens,  presses  the  button,  places  the  used 
drawing  to  one  side  and  puts  the  next  one  in  place,  and  so  on. 
The  work  progresses  at  a  fair  rate  of  speed  and  in  a  way  is 
strongly  suggestive  of  the  job  press  feeder,  although  necessarily 
slower. 

By  the  clever  manipulation  of  a  set  of  drawings  it  is  sometimes 
possible  to  avoid  making  a  large  number  of  drawings  for  convey- 
ing a  certain  idea.  For  example,  a  long  freight  train  moving 
past  one  point  may  be  represented  by  a  locomotive  and  tender 
and  several  freight  cars,  after  which  the  same  freight  cars  are 
repeated  over  and  over  again  until  the  desired  length  of  train 


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310  Cartoons  That  Move  and  Sculpture  That  Lives 

has  been  represented.  Or  if  a  figure  is  shown  doing  the  same 
thing  for  a  few  seconds,  such  as  jigging  or  exercising  or  running 
in  a  circle,  it  is  only  necessary  to  draw  the  complete  action  once, 
after  which  the  same  set  of  drawings  is  used  as  often  as  neces- 
sary. These  measures  or  short  cuts  are  rather  fortunate,  to  be 
sure;  for  they  go  far  to  reduce  the  amount  of  work  involved  in 
producing  a  full  reel  of  animated  cartoons.  Theoretically,  a  full 
reel  of  one  thousand  feet  should  call  for  16,000  separate  draw- 
ings; but  because  of  the  fact  that  certain  drawings  are  used  for 
several  '^ frames"  in  order  to  prolong  a  certain  scene,  and  that  cer- 
tain sets  of  drawings  can  be  employed  several  times  as  already 
pointed  out,  the  number  of  drawings  is  generally  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  8,000.  Titles,  of  course,  also  cut  down  the  required 
number  of  drawings. 

It  requires  no  little  experience  to  plan  a  schedule  for  the  camera- 
man. Indeed,  the  man  who  compiles  a  list  of  exposures,  telling 
what  drawings  are  to  be  used,  how  they  are  to  be  used,  in  what 
order,  and  how  many  exposures  of  each — ^who  does  the  thinking 
for  the  cameraman,  in  brief,  is  the  real  director  of  an  animated 
cartoon  production. 

With  the  negative  once  exposed,  there  remains  little  else  to  do 
but  to  develop,  edit,  insert  titles,  assemble  the  negative,  and  then 
run  off  as  many  positive  prints  as  are  required  to  meet  the 
demand. 

SCREEN    COMEDIES   IN    CLAY 

Possessing  every  feature  that  goes  to  make  a  good  comedy  on 
the  screen,  and  having  in  addition  a  distinct  touch  of  novelty,  the 
animated  sculptures  introduced  some  time  ago  have  proved  a 
pleasant  change  from  the  usual  run  of  film  subjects.  The  appeal 
is  much  along  the  same  lines  as  the  animated  cartoon  film;  in 
fact,  the  two  can  be  considered  as  twin  brothers. 

The  principle  of  the  new  films  is  precisely  that  of  the  animated 
cartoons:  the  photographing  of  successive  subjects  or  positions 
of  the  same  subject,  each  a  trifle  different  from  its  predecessor 
so  that  the  proper  animation  will  result  when  the  strip  of  film  is 
projected  on  the  screen.  The  photographs  are  made' one  by  one 
and  projected  at  the  standard  rate  of  sixteen  per  second.  Due  al- 
lowance must  be  made  for  the  rapidity  of  projection  as  compared 
to  the  slowness  of  the  photographing  process. 


312  Cartoons  That  Move  and  Sculpture  That  Lives 

Like  the  production  of  animated  cartoons,  the  making  of  ani- 
mated sculpture  films  is  something  that  cannot  be  undertaken 
without  some  preparatory  study.  It  requires  many  months'  pre- 
liminary work  or  experimentation  before  the  actual  start  is  made. 
The  skilled  sculptor  who  would  have  his  work  appear  on  the 
screen  must  develop  a  certain  screen  technique ;  like  the  animated 
cartoonist  he  must  make  a  special  study  of  motion  and  learn  how 
to  reproduce  it  in  steps  so  as  to  put  life  into  the  little  men  and 
women  and  other  objects  of  clay,  gauging  and  timing  each  move 
correctly  so  as  to  obtain  the  proper  screen  results. 

Judging  from  the  experience  of  one  producer  of  animated  sculp- 
ture films,  the  early  efforts  are  usually  bound  to  be  discouraging. 
In  the  case  of  this  producer  the  clay  figures  went  through  their 
antics  so  fast  that  the  spectators  could  not  follow  them  on  the 
screen.  Then,  after  mastering  this,  the  mechanical  phase  of  the 
work,  this  producer  was  confronted  with  the  study  of  screen 
action,  or  the  story-teUing  phase.  At  first  the  stories  or  scenarios 
called  for  several  characters,  each  highly  animated,  appearing 
in  groups  in  many  of  the  scenes.  But  this  producer  soon  discov- 
ered one  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  animated  cartoons, 
namely,  the  centering  of  the  action  so  that  the  audience  is  not 
confused.  Before  that  there  appeared  a  number  of  characters 
in  a  single  scene,  each  doing  something  or  other  so  that  the  audi- 
ence failed  to  be  attracted  to  any  one  bit  of  action. 

The  successful  animated  sculpture  film  uses  simple  plots  and 
limits  the  main  action  or  point  of  interest  to  one  figure,  although 
this  does  not  mean  to  say  that  only  one  character  can  be  shown 
at  a  time.  Quite  often  a  group  of  characters  are  introduced  in  a 
single  scene,  but  nearly  always  the  main  action  is  centered  on 
some  one  character  while  the  remaining  ones  are  rigid  or  only 
slightly  animated  so  as  not  to  distract  the  audience. 

PUTTING    SCREEN    LIFE    INTO   LUMPS    OF    CLAY 

The  work  of  the  animated  sculpture  producer  runs  about  as 
follows : 

First,  the  film  story  is  worked  up,  much  after  the  fashion  of  the 
regular  scenario,  although  of  course  the  plot  is  simple  and  the 
action  is  reduced  to  a  minimum.  Then  the  cast  is  assembled  in  the 
form  of  the  required  number  of  clay  characters.    As  far  as  pos- 


314  Cartoons  That  Move  and  Sculpture  That  Lives 

sible  these  figures  are  made  entirely  of  modeling  clay  of  different 
shades,  painted  when  necessary  to  make  them  more  attractive. 
Occasionally  the  little  figures  are  dressed  in  real  clothes  and  have 
real  hair.  When  the  design  is  mechanically  weak,  the  clay  is 
reinforced  with  wood  or  wire. 

With  the  completion  of  the  clay  figures  of  the  cast,  the  photo- 
graphing process  is  entered  into.  The  sculptor  proceeds  to  alter 
the  poses  of  the  figures  in  the  scene,  step  by  step,  as  the  camera 
records  each  change  by  a  single  image  or  more.  The  single- 
picture  or  trick  movement  of  a  standard  camera  is  employed, 
as  in  the  instance  of  animated  cartoons.  The  Cooper-Hewitt 
tubes  that  supply  the  necessary  illumination  are  so  placed  as  to 
accentuate  the  high  lights  and  shadows,  bringing  out  the  figures 
in  bold  relief. 

One  would  naturally  suppose  that  the  photographic  process  is 
slow  in  this  case,  considering  that  the  sculptor  must  alter  the 
pose  of  the  little  figures  many  times  to  produce  a  foot  of  film. 
Yet  we  learn  from  one  producer  that  200  feet  of  finished  film  is 
by  no  means  an  unusual  day's  work.  To  one  who  has  mastered 
the  production  of  animated  sculptures  it  is  a  simple  matter  to 
give  the  required  twist  to  the  little  figures,  or  a  touch  here  and 
there  on  their  soft  clay  faces  in  order  to  alter  the  facial  expres- 
sion. Compared  with  the  obvious  ease  with  which  this  work  is 
carried  on,  the  drawing  of  sixteen  separate  and  finished  pen-and- 
ink  sketches  seems  considerably  more  laborious. 

Some  productions  require  more  time  than  others,  as  for  ex- 
ample a  playette  in  which  three  chorus  girls,  a  full  orchestra,  and 
a  "bald-headed  row"  took  part.  Here  it  was  necessary  to  have 
the  three  girls  move  in  unison  in  their  dances  and  to  animate 
the  orchestra  to  a  considerable  degree,  particularly  the  leader, 
while  the  "bald-headed  row"  had  to  receive  some  if  shght  atten- 
tion to  add  life  and  realism  to  the  scene  as  a  whole.  Each  picture 
required  as  many  as  two  dozen  changes  to  secure  the  desired  effect 
on  the  screen. 

But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  animated  sculptures  are 
simpler  throughout  than  the  animated  cartoons.  While  the  latter 
can  allow  of  crudeness  in  certain  details  of  the  action,  such  as  the 
simulation  of  walking,  in  the  former  the  walking  process  and 
other  action  must  be  somewhere  near  the  real  thing.    That  means 


o 
o 

f 
r 
w 

w 
w 

o 

w 
a 

>  t^ 


W 


316  Cartoons  That  Move  and  Sculpture  That  Lives    ■ 

much  study ;  and  the  producer  may  have  to  spend  hours  studying 
how  persons  walk,  how  a  cat  looks  when  scared,  how  a  dog  looks 
when  barking,  and  so  on  with  again  as  many  or  even  more  hours 
in  applying  the  acquired  knowledge  to  clay  figures. 

.  TOYLAND   IN    THE    FILMS 

It  seems  probable  that  the  stars  of  filmdom  are  going  to  have 
some  competition  in  the  near  future,  and  from  a  most  unexpected 
source.  Their  rivals  will  not  be  of  flesh  and  blood,  however,  but 
dolls;  wonderful  little  people  of  wood  and  wax  which  under  the 
skillful  guidance  of  their  creator  act  with  ease  and  grace.  In 
other  words,  a  Chicago  director  has  recently  discovered  how  to 
put  the  right  sort  of  ''move"  into  dolls,  so  that  when  their  his- 
trionic efforts  are  projected  on  the  screen  they  have  all  the  ap- 
pearance of  being  alive  and  of  acting  of  their  own  volition.  This 
director  has  recently  finished  a  five-reel  play  in  which  his  little 
players  have  been  given  opportunity  to  perform  almost  every 
"stunt"  that  falls  to  the  lot  of  the  real  "movie"  folk,  and  they 
have  acquitted  themselves  so  creditably  that  it  seems  certain  they 
will  score  a  distinct  hit  when  the  play  is  formally  released  for 
exhibition. 

This  director's  five-reel  play  represents  the  highly  concentrated 
efforts  of  himself  and  his  assistants  during  a  period  of  six  months. 
This  will  be  better  appreciated  when  it  is  understood  that  the 
filming  of  even  the  simplest  scenes  which,  when  projected  at 
normal  speed,  may  be  run  off  in  a  few  seconds,  may  require  per- 
haps an  hour  or  more  to  pose  the  dolls  and  photograph  the  in- 
dividual movements.    This  is  the  substance  of  the  whole  matter: 

A  doll  is  posed  for  the  beginning  of  a  movement,  and  the  cam- 
eraman, turning  the  crank  of  his  machine  once,  makes  a  single 
exposure.  Then  the  director  moves  the  doll  a  fraction  of  an  inch 
and  another  exposure  is  made,  this  process  being  repeated  until 
the  action  is  completed.  This  means  that  an  interval  of  several 
seconds  at  least  elapses  between  each  exposure — in  the  case  of 
difficult  actions  the  time  is  longer — and  as  even  the  simplest 
action,  such  as  the  mere  raising  or  lowering  of  an  arm,  is  com- 
posed of  anywhere  from  ten  to  twenty  separate  movements,  it 
will  be  seen  what  a  long  drawn  out  job  it  is.  Contrast  this  with 
the  filming  of  real  actors.     The  latter  go  right  along  with  their 


ABOVE:      GOLDILOCKS     AND     THE     THREE     BEARS.        BELOW:      A     SCENE 
WHEREIN  A  FULL-SIZED   ACTOR  AND   A  DOLL  TAKE  PART 


318  Cartoons  That  Move  and  Sculpture  That  Lives 

acting  and  the  movement  of  the  camera  is  continuous,  so  that  an 
action  such  as  the  one  mentioned  would  be  executed  and  photo- 
graphed in  a  second  or  two.  In  the  case  of  a  doll  it  may  take 
from  fifteen  minutes  to  half  an  hour. 

But  simply  moving  the  dolls  about  and  photographing  them  is 
not  all  of  the  job  by  any  means.  To  produce  natural  movements 
the  director  must  know  just  how  far  to  move  them  between  each 
exposure  and  how  many  times  to  do  it  to  secure  the  effect  desired. 
This  requires  a  vast  amount  of  study  and  experimenting,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  animated  cartoons  and  sculpture.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  the  director  in  question  almost  invariably  goes  through  every 
action  to  be  performed  by  his  dolls  himself  and  counts  the  num- 
ber of  pictures  it  will  take  to  complete  that  action.  In  addition, 
he  must  observe  the  proper  angle  at  which  an  arm,  a  leg,  or  a 
head  must  be  moved  to  make  the  entire  action  seem  continuous 
and  true  to  life  when  it  is  projected  on  the  screen.  For  this 
reason  this  director  uses  only  the  finest  jointed  dolls,  capable  of 
much  flexibility,  and  even  these  he  finds  it  necessary  to  have  made 
to  order  under  his  personal  supervision. 

That  the  work  of  posing  dolls  to  act  before  the  camera  re- 
quires infinite  patience  and  care  goes  without  saying.  This  direc- 
tor experimented  for  several  years  before  he  felt  qualified  to 
attempt  a  production  worthy  to  offer  the  pubHc.  During  this 
time  he  turned  out  a  number  of  short  plays,  which,  however,  were 
not  for  general  exhibition.  Furthermore,  his  earlier  efforts  were 
confined  exclusively  to  dolls,  whereas  in  his  latest  efforts  he  has 
introduced  Hving  characters  in  some  of  the  scenes.  This  means 
that  the  difficult  problem  of  synchronism  had  to  be  solved.  That 
is  to  say,  while  he  could  control  the  movements  of  his  dolls  well 
enough,  he  had  to  figure  out  a  way  to  make  the  human  actor's 
movements  occur  simultaneously  and  in  proper  tempo  with  those 
of  the  dolls. 

This  he  succeeded  in  doing  in  a  most  realistic  manner.  For 
instance,  he  has  a  scene  where  the  hero  and  heroine  dolls  have  lost 
their  way  in  the  country.  We  first  see  them  climbing  a  six-foot 
embankment  to  the  road,  while  down  the  road  comes  a  farmer 
afoot.  Reaching  the  road  the  dolls  hail  the  farmer,  who  has 
arrived  opposite  them,  and  ask  the  way  home.  To  move  the 
dolls  up  to  the  embankment  required  30  minutes,  and  while  this 


THE    DIRECTOR    AND    HIS    ASSISTANT    MUST    ANIMATE    THE    DOLLS    BY 
LITTLE  PROGRESSIVE   STEPS,   BETWEEN   FILM   EXPOSURES 


32v')  Cartoons  That  Move  and  Sculpture  That  Lives 

was  going  on  the  actor-farmer  had  so  to  regulate  his  speed  that 
he  would  cover  the  required  distance  in  the  same  time.  Of 
course  the  scene  had  to  be  rehearsed  several  times  for  the  benefit 
of  the  actor- farmer,  until  the  whole  thing  was  mathematically 
correct. 

This  brings  out  an  advantage,  and  perhaps  the  only  one,  that 
the  director  of  the  dolls  enjoys  over  the  director  of  real  people. 
The  dolls  do  not  have  to  be  rehearsed,  but  are  ready  to  go  through 
their  paces  the  moment  the  director  gives  the  word,  and  without 
any  preliminary  training.  Generally  they  do  it,  too,  without  the 
slightest  objection.  The  word  "generally"  is  used  advisedly,  for, 
startling  as  it  may  sound,  the  dolls  occasionally  seem  af- 
flicted with  "temperament,"  just  like  a  thousand-dollar-a-week 
star.  At  any  rate,  they  sometimes  refuse  to  do  what  the  scenario 
calls  for  and  then  it  is  necessary  to  work  up  new  business  for 
them.  It  may  be  the  weather  that  affects  their  joints,  or  it  may 
be  that  same  inexplicable  thing  which  causes  a  fish  line  to  become 
hopelessly  entangled;  but  the  fact  remains  that  they  have  their 
fits  of  contrariness  The  only  consolation  is  that  under  the  cir- 
cumstances the  director  may  express  his  opinion  freely  without 
any  chance  of  a  come-back  from  his  actors.  Furthermore,  the 
doll  actors  do  not  keep  on  collecting  a  large  salary  while  out  of 
sorts,  or  at  any  other  time,  for  that  matter. 

Our  doll  director  always  writes  his  own  scenarios  because  they 
must  fit  the  peculiar  requirements  of  this  work,  which  are  totally 
different  from  those  of  ordinary  photoplay  production ;  and  no  one 
not  familiar  with  this  class  of  production  could  furnish  a  script 
of  a  practical  nature.  The  plays  are  not  made  with  the  idea  of 
catering  to  children  in  particular;  the  bare  fact  that  this  director 
makes  dolls  act  like  live  people  is  enough  to  interest  them,  and 
so  he  tries  to  make  his  subject  matter  appeal  to  the  older  mind, 
thereby  amusing  both  the  young  people  and  the  grown-ups  at  the 
same  time. 

To  tell  much  of  the  tricks  of  this  business  would  be  to  tell  it  all. 
It  may  be  said,  however,  that  a  great  many  pins  and  invisible 
threads  and  wires  are  used.  Then,  of  course,  special  scenery  is 
required.  This  director  employs  a  corps  of  carpenters  who  do 
nothing  but  build  miniature  stage  settings  and  properties,  many 
of  which  are  quite  as  elaborate  in  detail  as  those  employed  in 


322  Cartoons  That  Move  and  Sculpture  That  Lives 

productions  featuring  real  people.  The  question  of  costumes  is 
also  an  important  one  and  so,  like  almost  everything  else,  they 
are  designed  and  manufactured  under  this  director's  personal 
supervision.  It  may  be  stated  that  they  cost  quite  a  bit  of  money, 
too.  The  latest  achievement  of  this  director  is  to  give  expression 
to  his  dolls.  He  has  worked  out  a  scheme  whereby  they  are  made 
to  smile,  frown,  pout,  wink  and  exhibit  various  other  emotions. 
But  just  how  this  is  done  is  a  secret  which  rests  with  the  director 
alone. 

This  business  of  directing  dolls  is  one  which  tends  to  try  one's 
patience.  Yet  when  the  pictures  are  projected  on  the  screen, 
and  the  work  of  hours  flits  by  in  as  many  seconds,  the  startling 
results  more  than  make  up  for  the  labor  and  skill  involved  in  the 
production. 


CHAPTER   XVII 


MOTION  PICTURES  IN  STRANGE 
FIELDS 


^y LOWLY  but  surely  the  motion  picture  is  coming  to 
ij  be  looked  upon  as  something  aside  from  a  means  of 
^^^  entertainment.  Engineers  have  already  discovered 
the  scientific  value  of  the  motion  picture  in  making  a 
report.  In  the  medical  profession  the  motion  picture  is 
being  employed  to  demonstrate  certain  operations  and 
treatments.  In  schools  and  colleges  the  motion  picture  is 
slowly  making  its  way  as  an  instructor.  At  the  army  train- 
ing camp,  the  motion  picture  has  proved  an  ideal  drill 
sergeant  and  lecturer;  our  boys  of  the  National  Army  were 
taught  the  operation  of  the  Lewis  and  Browning  machine 
guns  and  the  Stokes  mortar  and  the  hand  grenade,  long 
before  they  became  personally  acquainted  with  these 
death-dealing  devices.  As  a  lecturer  and  instructor,  the 
motion  picture  is  rapidly  gaining  ground. 


324  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

HISTORY  is  repeating  itself  in  the  motion-picture  world. 
The  principle  of  motion-picture  photography  was  first 
resorted  to  in  the  scientific  study  of  motion.  In  order 
to  decide  an  argument  regarding  the  locomotion  of  race  horses, 
Edward  Muybridge,  an  Englishman,  arranged  to  take  a  series  of 
photographs  of  a  moving  horse.  For  this  purpose  he  set  up 
twenty- four  cameras,  using  wet  collodian  plates,  at  the  Sacra- 
mento, Calif.,  race  track.  Each  camera  was  actuated  by  a  fine 
thread  attached  to  its  shutter  and  extending  across  the  race 
track,  so  that  the  horse  would  break  it  and  release  the  shutter 
when  well  within  the  range  of  the  camera.  The  result,  after  due 
experimentation,  was  a  series  of  plates  showing  the  progressive 
actions  in  the  locomotion  of  a  horse.  Thus  Muybridge  solved  a 
much  mooted  question — and  incidentally  laid  the  foundation  for 
the  motion  picture. 

And  to-day,  almost  a  half  century  later,  the  motion  picture 
is  again  entering  the  field  of  science,  while  still  retaining  its 
enviable  position  in  the  world  of  entertainment.  There  are 
scientists  in  many  countries  who  are  now  following  in  the  foot- 
steps of  Dr.  E.  J.  Marey  of  France,  who  took  up  the  work  of 
Muybridge  and  estabUshed  the  Marey  Institute  at  Paris,  which 
has  come  to  be  known  as  the  cradle  of  cinematography.  Marey 
did  away  with  the  battery  of  cameras  employed  by  Muybridge, 
and  introduced  the  present  system  of  a  single  camera  and  a 
movable  negative.  His  first  camera  was  called  the  Marey  Photo- 
graphic Gun,  and  made  its  debut  in  1882.  Marey  foresaw  the 
endless  scientific  possibilities  of  cinematography;  and  from  the 
Marey  Institute  in  France  there  have  issued  wonderful  films 
without  end.  That  institution  has  been  equipped  with  every  form 
of  apparatus  and  facility  for  carrying  on  the  work ;  and  the  fore- 
most scientists  of  the  world  have  become  members  of  the  In- 
stitute. 

X-RAY   MOTION   PICTURES 

Among  the  many  interesting  researches  of  the  Marey  Institute 
have  been  the  X-ray  motion  pictures  produced  by  M.  J.  Carvallo, 
making  it  possible  to  record  the  functioning  of  the  human  organs. 
That  the  problem  was  not  an  easy  one  is  evinced  by  the  fact  that 
many  investigators  had  attempted  it  before  without  success.    A 


326  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

special  camera  had  to  be  constructed,  in  order  that  exposures 
might  be  varied  from  every  20  seconds  to  one  per  hour,  according 
to  the  character  and  the  subject  under  investigation.  His  camera 
was  driven  by  an  electric  motor,  and  operated  automatically 
after  it  was  once  set. 

Finding  the  standard  film  unsuited  to  the  requirements,  M. 
Carvallo  made  use  of  a  special  film  with  a  more  sensitive  emulsion 
than  was  available  at  that  time,  about  eight  years  ago.  In  this 
manner  he  obtained  the  most  interesting  films,  such  as  those 
depicting  the  digestive  process  in  a  frog,  a  mouse,  a  chicken,  a 
dog,  and  so  on.  The  subjects  were  fed  with  either  a  peculiar 
paste,  or  the  usual  food  combined  with  basic  bismuth  nitrate,  thus 
rendering  the  digestive  organs  opaque  and  delineating  them 
clearly  on  the  film.  These  films  were  copied  on  to  standard  film 
for  the  entertainment  of  motion-picture  audiences  throughout 
the  world. 

TAKING   PICTURES   BY   MEANS   OF   ELECTRIC    SPARKS 

Another  investigator  at  the  Marey  Institute,  M.  Lucicn  Bull, 
has  conducted  a  most  interesting  series  of  experiments  on  the 
movements  of  insects,  particularly  while  in  flight.  By  taking  a 
vast  number  of  exposures  in  a  very  short  space  of  time,  and  then 
projecting  these  exposures  at  the  usual  speed,  M.  Bull  has  made 
it  possible  to  analyze  in  detail  the  flight  of  any  insect,  such  as 
the  dragon  fly,  for  instance. 

For  his  purpose  this  investigator  required  a  camera  that  would 
make  more  than  100  exposures  per  second.  At  the  time  no  me- 
chanical device  could  actuate  a  shutter  and  the  film  at  that  speed 
without  injuring  the  film;  and  so  M.  Bull  set  to  work  on  a  new 
principle  of  cinematography,  namely,  electric  spark  cinematog- 
raphy. By  means  of  an  induction  coil  and  a  regular  oscillating 
circuit,  comprising  a  condenser  and  a  spark  gap,  he  obtained 
intensely  luminous  sparks  at  uniform  intervals  and  as  rapidly 
as  desired.  In  order  to  have  the  sparks  keep  in  step  with  the  ex- 
posures, since  no  shutter  was  employed,  he  made  use  of  a  com- 
mutator arrangement  on  the  same  shaft  as  the  film.  Thus  as 
the  commutator  bars  came  into  line  with  a  pair  of  brushes,  the 
induction  coil  primary  circuit  was  closed  and  a^  spark  resulted 
an  instant  later.    The  film,  on  the  other  hand,  was  mounted  on 


THIS     X-RAY     PICTURE     SHOWS     WHAT     HAPPENS     TO     THE     BONES     OF 
MILADY'S  FOOT  WHEN   SHE  INSISTS   ON   WEARING  HIGH   HEELS 


328  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

the  rim  of  a  wheel  which  turned  in  a  light-proof  box.  The  il- 
lumination emitted  by  the  spark  passed  through  the  specimen 
and  through  the  lens  and  on  to  the  film  being  turned  on  the  rim 
of  the  wheel. 

The  band  of  film  employed  by  M.  Bull  was  sufficiently  long  to 
accommodate  54  pictures  during  one  revolution  of  the  wheel. 
Because  of  the  total  absence  of  intermittent  movements  and  com- 
plicated mechanisms,  this  arrangement  permitted  exposures  to  be 
made  at  a  remarkably  high  rate  of  speed. 

The  spark  gap  is  composed  of  two  pointed  magnesium  elec- 
trodes, less  than  1/12-inch  in  thickness,  while  the  spark  is  1/25- 
inch  long.  The  spark  is  very  rich  in  the  ultra-violet  rays,  which 
possess  the  proper  actinic  or  photographic  qualities.  Naturally, 
the  images  on  the  film  are  in  the  form  of  silhouettes. 

If  the  problem  of  making  the  exposures  has  been  a  difficult 
one,  that  of  handling  the  insect  has  been  at  least  equally  difficult. 
With  a  system  of  photography  such  as  this  one,  where  the  images 
are  all  made  within  a  fraction  of  a  second,  it  has  been  found 
necessary  to  start  filming  just  as  the  insect  starts  on  his  winged 
journey.  It  has  also  been  necessary  to  have  the  insect  fly  across 
the  field  of  the  lens,  which  is  generally  done  by  placing  the  ap- 
paratus near  a  window,  because  insects  instinctively  fly  towards  a 
light. 

M.  Bull  set  to  work  devising  a  mechanism  which  would  open 
the  simple  shutter  of  his  camera  the  moment  the  fly  came  into  the 
field  of  the  lens.  The  first  mechanism  comprised  a  pair  of  pincers 
for  holding  a  house-fly  or  dragon-fly  captive  until  the  desired 
moment,  when  it  could  be  released  by  actuating  an  electro-mag- 
net. Another  mechanism  consisted  of  a  glass  tube  sealed  at  one 
end  and  open  at  the  other.  The  open  end  was  cut  on  the  slant, 
so  as  to  provide  a  sloping  exit.  The  exit  was  half  blocked  by  a 
fight  piece  of  mica,  attached  to  a  light  spring  on  top  of  the  tube. 
As  the  insect  is  emerging  from  the  tube,  with  the  mica  flap  on  his 
back,  the  camera  operator  closes  the  switch  and  has  everything 
in  readiness.  Then,  as  the  insect  is  free  of  the  flap,  the  latter 
drops  down  and  closes  the  circuit  which  causes  the  camera  shutter 
to  open  and  the  images  to  be  recorded.  A  third  device  consisted 
of  a  tiny  spring  board,  so  to  speak,  pivoted  at  the  center  and  car- 
rying at  one  end  a  contact  point.    Normally,  the  aluminum  board 


o 

W 

H 

»^ 
<!  H 
W  S 

o  o 

>^ 

HO 


330  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

rests  its  inner  end  on  an  adjustable  contact  screw,  so  that  the 
contacts  are  together.  But  as  the  insect  in  the  gkiss  tube  walks 
out  along  the  aluminum  board,  the  weight  is  shifted  to  the  other 
half  of  the  board  which  then  presses  down  on  that  side.  At 
this  point  the  camera  operator  closes  the  switch  and  has  every- 
thing in  readiness  for  the  exposure.  Then^  just  as  the  insect 
clears  the  tube  and  starts  off  on  his  flight,  the  aluminum  board, 
being  heavier  on  the  contact  side,  goes  down  on  that  side  and 
closes  the  circuit  which  actuates  the  shutter. 

THE   FLIGHT   OF   A   BULLET 

The  work  of  M.  Bull  extends  as  far  back  as  1904.  Since  then 
there  have  been  numerous  investigators  at  work  on  similar  films. 
Dr.  C.  Cranz,  an  eminent  German  scientist,  some  years  ago 
worked  out  a  system  whereby  500  consecutive  pictures  can  be 
taken  in  1/10  second,  the  exposures  varying  from  1/1,000,000 
to  1/10,000,000  part  of  a  second.  Dr.  Cranz  has  followed  the 
same  general  method  as  M.  Bull,  employing  an  electric  spark 
for  his  illumination.  In  this  instance  the  sensitized  band  runs 
over  two  steel  cylinders.  Over  280  feet  of  film  must  pass  by 
the  exposure  aperture  in  the  short  space  of  one  second.  Special 
provision  is  made  so  that  the  film  will  not  receive  more  than  one 
series  of  pictures. 

Dr.  Cranz  has  produced  divers  films  showing  the  flight  of  bul- 
lets. One  of  these  shows  the  firing  of  an  automatic  pistol,  from 
the  time  the  bullet  emerges  from  the  muzzle  until  the  smoke  of 
the  powder  charge  pours  out.  Similarly,  he  has  made  films  de- 
picting the  passage  of  a  bullet  through  a  steel  plate.  By  means 
of  certain  facilities  to  measure  the  vertical  and  horizontal  speed 
of  the  missile,  it  becomes  possible  to  employ  such  films  for 
ordnance  investigations.  In  fact,  the  British  government  set  up 
such  an  installation  many  years  ago  for  the  study  of  bullets  in 
flight.  No  doubt,  numerous  governments  and  ordnance  factories 
are  now  provided  with  similar  apparatus  for  studying  what  hap- 
pens when  one  attempts  to  stop  a  modern  bullet. 

ANALYZING   THE   GAME  OF   BASEBALL   AND   OTHER   THINGS 

There  is  no  limit  to  the  application  of  speed  motion  pictures. 
Not  long  ago  a  well-known  American  film  producer  made  use  of 


'^^^^'illt' 


K^ 


*=..: 


"11^4 


THESE  FILM  IMAGES  OF  BASEBALL  PLAYERS  HAVE  BEEN  MADE  AT  THE 
RATE  OF  128   "FRAMES"   PER   SECOND 


1 


332  Motion  Pictures  ifi  Strange  Fields 

its  new  type  of  camera  for  a  pictorial  analysis  of  baseball.  The 
new  motion- study  camera  takes  128  pictures  a  second,  and  the 
films  are  projected  at  the  standard  rate  of  16  per  second.  At 
this  rate  it  requires  eight  seconds  to  project  128  pictures  used 
for  the  analysis.  Consequently,  the  action  is  slowed  down  eight 
times  the  normal  speed. 

Applied  to  baseball,  these  motion  pictures  depict  the  art  of 
any  well-known  pitcher  or  batter.  A  swing  of  the  arm,  the  hold, 
the  release  of  the  ball,  and  the  passage  of  the  ball  through  the 
air  can  be  plainly  discerned  and  studied.  As  the  ball  leaves  the 
pitcher's  hand  it  travels,  or,  to  use  a  more  appropriate  term, 
floats  through  the  air.  When  the  ball  comes  in  contact  with  the 
bat,  the  rebound  action  is  clearly  shown. 

The  same  general  principle  has  been  applied  in  efficiency  engi- 
neering with  telling  results.  Efficiency  engineers  have  been  able 
to  study  all  kinds  of  action,  and  it  is  the  study  of  such  pictorial 
records  that  has  made  possible  the  simplifying  and  improving  of 
many  methods  and  processes.  Such  pictorial  records  have  often 
been  coupled  with  chronometers,  appearing  in  each  image  so  as 
to  indicate  the  lapse  of  time.  As  a  means  of  studying  motion, 
nothing  can  equal  the  cinematograph ;  and  the  same  bit  of  action 
can  be  reviewed  over  and  over  again,  at  any  speed. 

SHOOTING   AT   MOTION    PICTURES 

At  amusement  resorts  and  in  the  army  camps  motion  pictures 
are  employed  for  training  as  well  as  for  entertaining  the  men. 
Suitable  motion-picture  films  have  enabled  the  armies  to  train 
soldiers  for  sentry  duty,  so  'that  the  experience  of  coming  face  to 
face  with  an  enemy  soldier  is  pretty  closely  duplicated  for  the 
benefit  of  the  "rookie."  On  the  screen  in  front  of  him,  the  new 
soldier  is  suddenly  confronted  by  a  suspicious  form  emerging 
from  a  natural  cover.  He  has  to  go  through  the  regular  pro- 
cedure of  calling  upon  the  stranger  to  halt,  ask  for  the  pass  word, 
give  the  order  to  advance  so  many  paces,  and  so  on,  while  an 
officer  stands  by  and  comments  on  the  alacrit]^  of  the  "rookie." 

But  the  most  valuable  service  of  the  motion  picture  in  the 
military  camp  has  been  in  training  future  marksmen.  The  Brit- 
ish army  was  the  first  to  appreciate  the  value  of  motion  pictures 
for  training  its  new  army  at  the  beginning  of  the  great  war. 


ABOVE:      COUNTER    OF    THE    ANIMATED    SHOOTING    GALLERY.       BELOW: 
SOME  OF  THE  ELECTRICAL  APPARATUS  WHICH  HELPS  RECORD  HITS 


334  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

One  system  of  target  motion  pictures  recently  invented  by  an 
American,  makes  use  of  a  steel  plate  about  eight  feet  square  and 
painted  white,  for  the  screen.  At  the  back  of  this  plate  a  wooden 
gridiron  supports  small  iron  balls  hung  on  sliort  pieces  of  chain 
arranged  so  that  the  impact  of  the  bullet  on  any  point  on  the 
steel  screen  will  drive  a  ball  away  from  the  plate,  causing  the 
chain  to  cross  two  rods,  thus  closing  a  break  in  an  electric  circuit. 
Only  the  rods  immediately  behind  the  target  are  energized,  so 
that  a  hit  will  be  electrically  recorded  if  the  bullet  strikes  the 
target.    Otherwise  the  apparatus  shows  a  miss. 

One  of  the  accompanying  illustrations  shows  the  back  of  the 
steel  screen  with  the  balls  attached  to  it  and  the  rods  running 
across  it.  The  balls  are  three  inches  apart.  The  rods  run  hori- 
zontally, but  every  other  one  is  connected  with  a  vertical  wire. 
We  may  liken  the  horizontal  rods  to  parallels  of  latitude  and  the 
vertical  wires  to  meridians  or  lines  ©f  longitude,  by  which  any 
spot  on  the  screen  may  be  fixed,  just  as  on  a  map.  Having  de- 
termined the  latitude  and  longitude  of  the  different  points  that 
will  be  occupied  by  the  target,  it  only  remains  to  provide  means 
for  energizing  the  vertical  and  horizontar  lines  crossing  at  these 
points  at  the  particular  moment  when  they  will  be  traversed  by 
the  moving  target.  This  is  done  by  using  sets  of  contact  fingers 
on  each  side  of  the  film  in  the  projection  mechanism  and  cutting 
perforations  in  the  film  through  which  various  combinations  of 
fingers  may  make  contact  to  close  the  circuit  of  the  corresponding 
parallels  and  meridians  of  the  screen. 

There  are  nine  fingers  on  one  side  to  control  the  parallels  and 
nine  fingers  on  the  other  to  control  the  meridians.  These  fingers 
operate  in  pairs  of  various  combinations  to  close  the  circuit  of 
relays  which  in  turn  operate  to  energize  the  corresponding  rods. 
By  using  intermediate  relays,  nine  fingers  are  enough  to  control 
three  or  four  times  as  many  rods. 

In  preparing  a  film,  it  is  thrown  up  by  means  of  a  weak  light 
upon  a  chart  which  shows  the  location  of  the  wires  and  the  balls 
of  the  large  target  board.  The  operator  looking  at  the  projected 
image  of  the  first  picture  of  the  film  sees  by  the  chart  what  wires 
must  be  connected  to  the  current  to  sensitize  the  animal  or  other 
moving  target  in  the  picture.  Having  determined  its  latitude  and 
longitude,  so  to  speak,  the  edge  of  the  film  is  correspondingly 


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336  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

perforated  with  two  holes  on  each  side,  then  the  next  picture  is 
similarly  treated,  and  so  on  until  the  entire  tape  has  been  per- 
forated. Only  a  momentary  impulse  may  pass  through  the 
fingers  because  the  film  comes  to  rest  for  but  an  instant,  and 
then  moves  on,  breaking  the  electrical  contact  through  the  per- 
forations. Accordingly,  a  device  is  provided  which  automatically 
keeps  the  rods  energized  until  the  next  impulse  is  passed  through 
the  fingers  as  they  drop  through  the  perforations  of  the  succeed- 
ing picture  on  the  film. 

The  "vital"  spot  on  the  animal  never  passes  out  of  the  sensitive 
area  on  the  screen.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  a  bullet  must 
actually  strike  the  steel  curtain  at  the  very  point  behind  which 
the  ball  is  resting.  There  is  no  spot  on  the  screen  that  is  dead. 
If  a  bullet  should  strike  midway  between  two  balls,  both  of  them 
would  be  thrown  outward,  making  contact  with  their  respective 
rods.  Thus  between  two  successive  positions  of  the  animal  or 
subje.ct  and  through  which  by  the  illusion  of  the  cinematograph 
the  subject  appears  to  move,  the  screen  is  sensitive,  and  should  a 
bullet  strike  'any  intermediate  spot,  a  hit  would  be  recorded. 
In  other  words,  there  is  never  a  time  when  the  illusion  makes  it 
impossible  to  score  a  hit. 

The  hits  and  misses  of  each  marksman  are  recorded  by  a  series 
of  lamps  located  before  and  above  him.  The  circuit  to  these 
lamps  is  closed  through  his  own  gun.  Electrical  connections  to 
the  different  guns  are  made  through  a  light  flexible  cord  which 
does  not  interfere  in  the  least  with  the  shooting.  The  contact  is 
made  at  the  hammer  when  the  gun  is  cocked,  and  broken  when 
the  gun  is  fired.  An  electrically  operated  ratchet  device  steps  a 
brush  from  the  terminal  of  one  lamp  to  the  terminal  of  the  next 
lamp  circuit.  A  timing  device  is  used  to  operate  a  circuit  breaker. 
Every  rifle  is  connected  to  its  own  "stepper"  and  scoring  lamp. 
When  the  gun  is  fired,  the  timing  device  closes  the  circuit  con- 
necting the  particular  gun  with  the  steel  target  contacts  for  a 
fraction  of  a  second.  If  the  shot  is  a  hit  during  this  interval,  an 
impulse  lights  the  lamp  by  throwing  a  switch.  If  the  shot  is  a 
miss,  the  timer  cuts  the  connection  after  the  proper  interval  and 
the  lamp  stays  dark.  The  gun  cocked  for  the  next  shot  steps  the 
brush  to  the  next  lamp,  and  so  on.    Any  number  of  rifles  can  be 


338  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

used,  for  the  interval  required  for  an  impulse  to  reach  the  lamp 
of  each  gun  is  hardly  appreciable. 

THE   SCREEN    AS   THE   DRILL    SERGEANT 

Not  only  in  the  matter  of  training  sharpshooters  Tias  the  motion 
picture  served  armies  in  time  of  war.  Our  own  Army,  which  had 
to  be  raised  in  short  order,  has  made  good  use  of  motion  pictures 
for  the  purpose  of  teaching  military  subjects  in  quick  order. 
Indeed,  the  authorities  made  use  of  the  fact  that  we  are  a*  nation 
of  "movie"  fans ;  and  the  text-book  was  replaced  in  many  training 
camps  by  the  more  interesting  and  more  effective  motion-picture 
studies. 

For  instance,  in  the  matter  of  the  two  types  of  Browning 
machine  guns  with  which  our  Army  has  been  equipped,  the 
doughboys  were  taught  their  action  by  means  of  elaborate  ani- 
mated drawings  as  well  as  photographs  of  the  weapons  in  action. 
Better  still,  they  were  introduced — that  is  to  say,  pictorially,  of 
course— to  the  inventor,  John  M.  Browning,  and  then  to  his 
remarkable  weapons.  Expert  machine  gunners  were  shown  using 
the  Browning  weapons,  and  such  pictures  served  just  as  effect- 
ively as  if  these  experts  had  come  to  every  camp  where  the  films 
were  shown.  Best  of  all,  a  film  subject  can  appear  in  one  hun- 
dred, two  hundred,  or  any  number  of  places  at  one  time,  providing 
a  sufficient  number  of  positive  prints  are  made.  So  that  in  the 
case  of  our  newly  created  Army,  where  speed  was  a  paramount 
essential,  the  pictorial  demonstrations  of  certain  experts  were 
available  for  many  camps  at  the  same  time;  and  from  a  stand- 
point of  economy  the  film  method  of  training  more  than  made 
good. 

Three  classes  of  motion-picture  studies  were  employed  by  our 
General  Staff  in  training  the  draft  Army.  First  of  all  were  the 
films  employed  for  teaching  squad  movements,  artillery  in  action, 
cavalry  maneuvers,  and  so  on.  In  such  films  the  experts  used 
for  the  various  scenes  wore  cardboard  signs  bearing  letters  or 
names  so  that  their  movements  and  duties  could  be  plainly  fol- 
lowed. The  second  class  comprised  the  motion-study  or  motion- 
analysis  films,  in  which  the  photographs  are  taken  at  a  high 
ra^e  of  speed,  say  96  or  more  per  second,  and  projected  at  the 
standard  rate  so  that  any  process,  movement  or  action  can  be 


r 


340  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

brought  down  to  a  slow  speed  which  permits  of  careful  study,  as 
already  referred  to  in  this  chapter.  The  third  class  of  films 
dealt  with  the  detailed  explanation  of  any  mechanism  and  its 
functioning,  such  as  rifle  grenades,  machine  guns,  recoil  members 
of  guns,  and  so  on. 

MOTION   PICTURES   OF   METAL   STRESSES 

The  moving  picture  has  entered  a  new  field.  When  it  was  first 
introduced,  few,  if  any,  would  have  imagined  that  it  would  be 
applied  microscopically — that  is,  that  moving  microscopic  images 
would  be  taken  and  the  revelation  appear  on  the  screen  of  what 
takes  place  under  a  microscope.  What  is  probably  the  first  in- 
stance of  this  class  of  film  applied  to  engineering,  was  exhibited 
at  a  recent  convention  of  testing  engineers  at  Atlantic  City,  N.  J. 

Wrought  iron  was  used  to  try  out  the  idea.  It  is  known  that 
when  a  metal  like  wrought  iron  or  steel  is  subjected  to  alternate 
stresses  or  shocks,  brought  about  by  repeated  bendings  or  blows, 
the  metal  gradually  deteriorates  or  weakens,  and  finally  breaks, 
sometimes  with  serious  consequences.  It  is  also  known  that  all 
such  metal  is  made  up  of  close-lying  crystals  and  that  such  bend- 
ing or  blows  distort  those  crystals,  causing  the  ultimate  weakness. 

A  moving  reproduction  has  been  taken  and  vividly  projected 
on  the  screen  of  the  successive  changes  which  take  place  in  the 
structure  of  crystals  of  such  iron  when  subjected  to  alternate 
bends  or  blows.  The  piece  of  iron  was  placed  in  a  bending  ma- 
chine. The  microscope  was  attached  to  cover  the  place  or  joint 
where  the  iron  was  most  affected,  and  a  motion-picture  camera 
was  attached  to  the  microscope.  As  the  piece  of  iron  was  bent 
back  and  forth  the  effect  in  the  breaking  point  was  recorded 
through  the  microscope  and  in  the  camera.  About  one  three- 
hundredths  of  a  square  inch  of  area  of  this  iron  was  thus  repro- 
duced. The  effect  was  remarkable,  each  minute  change  in  the 
structure  and  crystals  being  accurately  reproduced  until  the  piece 
broke.  The  gradual  progression  or  formation  of  the  cracks  or 
weakening  lines  was  distinctly  visible. 

Credit  for  this  really  wonderful  accomplishment  is  due  to  a 
professor  in  the  University  of  Illinois.  He  has  probably  rendered 
a  distinct  service  and  may  have  opened  a  broader  field  than  he 
now  realizes.    He  has  probably  introduced  a  method  of  investiga- 


in 
H 

H  S 

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H 


2 

O  hH 


> 


342  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

tion  of  far-reaching  importance,  both  technically  and  practically. 
It  is  believed  that  the  new  idea  will  be  successfully  applied  to 
steel,  non-ferrous  or  copper  metals  and  other  alloys  in  the  near 
future.  Besides  explaining  many  interesting  phenomena  not  now 
fully  understood,  it  may  settle  some  controversies  which  otherwise 
would  remain  open  much  longer.  It  may  determine  just  how  steel 
as  well  as  iron  really  deteriorates  or  weakens  under  stress, 
whether  through  the  crystal  or  in  some  other  way.  Such  an 
investigation  might  lead  to  a  heat  treatment  prolonging  the  life  of 
certain  steels  and  making  them  less  liable  to  fatigue,  as  it  is 
called,  or  to  gradual  or  sudden  deterioration.  The  conclusion  is 
evident  that  such  an  accomplishment  might  assist  in  prolonging 
the  life  of  important  members,  cables  and  ropes  for  elevators,  etc., 
conserving  life  as  well  as  material  thereby. 

By  its  application  it  may  ultimately  be  possible  to  tell,  for 
example,  by  the  appearance  of  the  surface  under  a  microscope, 
whether  a  material  has  passed  30  per  cent  of  its  effective  life  or 
90  per  cent  thereof.  If  the  characteristics  are  sufficiently  pro- 
nounced, which  experience  alone  can  tell,  then  it  will  be  possible 
to  polish  a  section  of  a  cable  in  use  and  examine  it  with  a 
microscope  from  time  to  time  and  thus  determine  whether  that 
section  at  least  is  nearly  ready  to  fail  or  whether  it  shows  no 
indication  of  failure.  These  observations  would  be  based  on 
previous  motion  pictures  of  the  same  material.  The  keynote  of 
the  idea  is  that  failure  takes  place  gradually,  beginning  the  mo- 
ment a  piece  of  metal  is  first  put  into  use,  and  ending  only  when 
that  piece  gives  way  entirely. 

MOTION-PICTURE   PORTRAIT   PHOTOGRAPHY 

Often  a  snapshot  made  with  a  one-dollar  camera  in  the  hands 
of  the  amateur  is  superior  to  the  handsome  portrait  of  the  leading 
studio.  It  is  superior  because  it  is  natural;  for  as  perfect  as  the 
photographic  qualities  of  the  studio  product  may  be,  it  is  gen- 
erally artificial,  so  to  speak.  Especially  is  this  true  of  children, 
whose  best  portraits  are  none  other  than  the  snapshots  made  of 
them  while  at  play.  And  after  all,  the  main  purpose  of  a  portrait 
is  to  present  the  subject  as  we  know  him,  and  not  as  he  distorts 
himself  before  the  studio  camera  to  the  tune  of  ''Look  pleasant, 
please!"  or  "Watch  the  birdie!" 


ABOVE:     ANOTHER   VIEW   OF   CAMERA,   MICROSCOPE   AND   BENDING   MA- 
CHINE.    BELOW:     BENDING   MACHINE.    SHOWING   COUNTER 


344  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

To  remove  the  artificial  atmosphere,  to  eliminate  ^'posing," 
and,  in  a  word,  to  make  portrait  sittings  a  pleasure  rather  than 
an  ordeal,  has  been  the  object  of  quite  a  number  of  inventors, 
both  here  and  abroad.  They  have  succeeded  in  evolving  suitable 
cameras  which  make  it  possible  to  take  motion  pictures  on  glass 
plates.  Any  one  of  the  images  on  the  glass  plates  can  be  selected 
for  enlargement,  or,  if  desired,  the  glass  plates  can  be  inserted  in 
a  modified  form  of  camera  and  projected  as  motion  pictures. 

In  one  form  of  motion-picture  portrait  photography,  invented 
by  an  American,  the  standard  sized  glass  plates  are  held  in  plate 
holders.  By  means  of  an  intermittent  movement  the  glass  plate 
is  moved  in  steps  from  right  to  left  past  the  lens  to  register  the 
first  row  of  images,  and  then  dropped  down  and  moved  from  left 
to  right  for  the  second,  followed  by  another  drop  and  a  right  to 
left  movement  for  the  third  row,  and  so  on  until  the  plate  is  en- 
tirely exposed.  The  movement,  which  consists  of  an  ingenious 
arrangement  of  gears,  chains,  ratchets  and  dogs,  is  actuated  by 
a  hand  crank  at  the  side  of  the  camera.  Numerous  adjustments 
of  marked  simplicity  permit  the  photographer  to  arrange  the 
movement  for  any  number  of  images  from  two  to  more  than  one 
thousand  on  a  5  by  7  inch  plate,  or  from  a  3I/2  by  5  inch  image 
to  a  pin-head  image,  with  the  same  lens  equipment,  by  means  of 
the  adjustable  framing  slides  of  the  aperture.  Again,  the  images 
may  be  made  at  any  speed  desired,  ranging  from  eight  to  sixteen 
per  second.  Or,  if  the  photographer  desires,  the  images  may  be 
made  one  at  a  time  by  a  single-picture  movement. 

Just  behind  the  lens  board  of  the  new  type  of  camera  is  a 
compartment  containing  part  of  the  plate-shifting  mechanism, 
as  well  as  the  revolving  shutter.  The  latter  is  similar  to  those 
employed  in  standard  motion-picture  cameras,  being  provided 
with  a  single  slot  or  opening  of  variable  size  so  as  to  permit  of 
wide  latitude  of  exposures  which  may  be  necessary  in  changing 
from  large  images  to  microscopic  ones.  A  lever,  connecting  with 
the  shutter,  is  arranged  to  be  fastened  at  variable  distances  from 
the  center  of  the  latter,  so  as  to  alter  the  rate  at  which  the  pic- 
tures are  made. 

In  the  compartment  at  the  rear  of  the  camera  is  the  frame 
which  carries  the  plate-holder.  To  load  the  camera,  the  plate 
holder  is  inserted  in  the  frame  at  the  bottom  of  the  compartment. 


L  > 


x^^^^^i  ms^r^riwwsk 


ABOVE:     WROUGHT    IRON    BEFORE    BEING    STRESSED.      BELOW:     SAME 
WROUGHT  IRON  SHEET  AFTER  424  FLEXURES 


346  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

as  shown  in  one  of  the  accompanying  views,  after  which  the  sUd- 
ing  door  is  closed  and  the  plate-holder  is  raised  to  the  upper 
right-hand  corner  by  means  of  the  hooked  rod  protruding  through 
the  top  of  the  case.  In  being  raised  in  this  fashion,  the  plate- 
holder  leaves  its  front  slide  below  it,  so  as  to  expose  the  negative, 
but  as  the  plate  is  shifted  from  one  side  to  the  other  past  the  lens 
and  dropped  down  at  the  end  of  a  row,  the  holder-shde  again 
regains  its  position  so  as  to  mask  the  plate  completely  by  the  time 
the  last  image  has  been  recorded.  This  feature,  it  will  be  noted, 
makes  the  apparatus  daylight-loading,  and  the  operator  can 
employ  one  plate-holder  after  another  during  the  rush  of  business 
without  undue  loss  of  time  for  reloading. 

A  fast  anastigmat  lens  of  short  focal  length  admits  of  its  use 
for  practically  the  entire  range  of  images,  and  focusing  is  facili- 
tated by  the  employment  of  a  small  piece  of  ground  glass  that 
can  be  shifted  behind  the  lens  aperture  while  the  photographer 
observes  the  focus  through  the  opening  at  the  rear  of  the  camera. 
When  everything  is  in  readiness,  the  focusing  slot  is  closed  and 
the  crank  is  turned.  The  subject  can  practically  do  as  he  pleases, 
since  the  camera  is  recording  every  movement;  and  among  the 
dozens  upon  dozens  of  images  recorded  on  the  plate  there  are 
bound  to  be  several  quite  typical  of  the  subject. 

Now  the  negatives  obtained  in  this  manner  ofTer  many  possi- 
bilities to  the  photographer.  First  of  all,  of  course,  is  the  possi- 
bility of  making  elaborate  portraits  of  any  standard  size  by  the 
enlarging  process.  By  using  a  relatively  slow  plate  with  a  mini- 
mum of  grain,  the  tiny  images  can  be  enlarged  to  perfect  portraits 
of  fair  size.  The  enlargements  can  be  made  singly  or  in  groups, 
and  one  photographer  employing  this  camera  has  achieved  no 
little  fame  by  making  his  enlargements  on  a  long  strip  of  cloth - 
backed  paper,  containing  many  portraits  of  the  same  subject, 
and  called  by  him  a  "Yard  of  Smiles."  Still  another  possibility  is 
the  use  of  small  contact  prints  for  ''stamps,"  which  may  be  pasted 
on  letters  or  calendars  or  used  in  any  other  manner  that  the  pur- 
chaser may  see  fit.  Contact  prints  of  the  entire  plate  offer 
pleasing  studies  of  the  subject,  and  can  be  cut  up  into  separate 
pictures  when  desired.  Again,  the  cut  pictures  can  be  assembled 
into  pads  or  books,  which,  when  flipped  before  the  eyes,  present  a 
motion  picture  of  the  subject  to  the  never-ending  interest  of 


THREE  VIEWS  OF  A  PLATE  CAMERA  WHICH  PERMITS  OF  MAKING  MOTION 
PICTURES  FOR  PORTRAIT  PURPOSES 


34S  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

parents  and  friends.  Indeed,  an  animated  portrait  is  by  far  the 
best  kind  of  a  portrait,  and  becomes  a  priceless  souvenir  in  later 
years.  Glass-plate  positives  printed  from  negatives  obviously 
can  be  projected  in  the  camera  or  in  a  similar  machine  as  motion 
pictures. 

An  Italian  inventor,  after  years  of  experimentation,  has  evolved 
a  similar  form  of  apparatus  for  making  motion-picture  portraits. 
In  his  camera,  however,  the  dimensions  of  each  image  are  limited 
to  one  size,  in  the  neighborhood  of  one-quarter  inch  square. 
Thus  several  hundred  images  are  recorded  on  the  standard  sized 
plate  employed. 

The  tiny  images  can  be  enlarged  into  beautiful  portraits  by 
means  of  a  simple  enlarging  lantern.  In  order  to  avoid  grain 
marks  due  to  the  great  degree  of  enlargement,  this  inventor  makes 
use  of  silk  bolting  cloth  in  front  of  the  paper  receiving  the  en- 
larged image.  The  silk  cloth  serves  to  eliminate  the  coarse  grain 
marks  while  leaving  its  fine  and  almost  indiscernible  weave  on 
the  enlargement. 

So  the  motion  picture  can  serve  as  a  means  of  obtaining  beauti- 
ful and  life-like  portraits,  by  means  of  the  enlarging  process 
w^hich  has  already  been  perfected  to  a  high  degree.  In  fact,  many 
amateur  motion-picture  cameramen  make  small  enlargements 
from  their  choicest  strips  of  negatives,  realizing  the  value  of  the 
tiny  %  by  1  inch  negatives  for  this  purpose.  And  there  are 
to-day  on  the  market  cameras  which  take  "still"  pictures  on 
standard  motion-picture  film.  On  50  feet  of  such  film,  it  is  pos- 
sible to  take  800  images,  any  one  of  which  can  be  enlarged  to  a 
clear  3i/4  by  4^/4  print. 

THE   MAP   MAKER  AND   THE   MOTION   PICTURE 

Ever  since  the  great  war  proved  the  value  of  photographs 
taken  from  airplanes,  map  makers  have  been  interested  in  ap- 
plying this  form  of  winged  photography  to  their  work.  For 
military  purposes,  cameras  have  been  developed  in  which  motion 
pictures  are  made  at  a  slow  rate  of  speed  while  the  airplane  is 
flying  over  hostile  territory.  It  may  be  that  in  the  no  distant 
future  these  same  cameras  will  be  applied  to  the  task  of  map 
making.  Already  it  is  reported  that  airplanes  have  made  flights 
over  "Darkest  Africa,"  filming  hundreds  of  miles  of  territory 


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350  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

which  still  appears  rather  blank  in  our  geographies  and  atlases. 
Obviously,  the  motion  picture  has  a  fertile  field  to  exploit  in  that 
direction,  along  with  its  present  application  in  presenting  to  us 
the  peoples  of  the  farthest  corners  of  the  globe,  which,  after  all, 
is  the  most  fascinating  and  therefore  effective  way  of  teaching 
geography. 

FILMING   SCIENCE   OR  DRAMA   AT   THE   OCEAN   BOTTOM 

It  is  not  SO  many  years  ago  that  two  young  American  brothers, 
aided  by  their  father,  designed  and  constructed  a  submarine  tube 
which  enabled  them  to  make  films  at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean.  At 
first  they  contented  themselves  with  films  of  fish  life  and  the 
remarkable  sea  gardens  in  southern  waters,  but  finally,  they 
turned  to  producing  remarkable  dramas  of  a  brand  new  variety, 
using  the  ocean  floor  for  their  theme  and  background. 

The  submarine  tube  employed  by  these  brothers  consists  of  a 
large  number  of  flexible  sections,  reinforced  by  steel  bands,  hang- 
ing from  a  well  in  a  barge  and  terminating  at  the  lower  end  in  a 
steel  chamber.  The  tube  is  flexible,  of  course,  permitting  it  to 
sway  with  the  movement  of  the  barge  and  the  tides,  so  that  it  is 
not  subjected  to  great  strains.  The  steel  chamber  below  is  round 
with  the  exception  of  a  horizontal  funnel-shaped  extension  which 
contains  the  huge  glass  window  through  which  the  subaqueous 
scenery  can  be  seen  and  photographed.  Air  is  supplied  through 
the  flexible  tube.  As  many  sections  may  be  added  as  are  neces- 
sary to  bring  the  steel  chamber  down  to  the  desired  depth. 

The  two  brothers  made  their  first  essays  at  submarine  photog- 
raphy in  Hampton  Roads;  but  it  was  not  very  long  before  they 
appreciated  the  difficulties  of  making  good  photographs  in  those 
muddy  and  poorly  illuminated  waters.  So  they  hied  off  to  the 
West  Indies,  where  clear  water  and  powerful  sunlight  awaited 
them.  Furthermore,  they  secured  far  more  beautiful  settings 
and  sea  life  for  their  submarine  pictures  in  those  tropical  waters 
than  would  ever  be  possible  farther  north. 

The  first  submarine  motion  pictures  were  made  by  these  two 
brothers,  and  showed  native  boys  diving  for  pennies  tossed  into 
the  water  by  tourists.  By  means  of  the  submarine  tube,  it  be- 
came possible  to  show  the  dusky  lads  plunging  below  the  surface, 
searching  about  for  the  pennies  on  the  crystal  white  sands  below, 


TiiERE  IS  NO  TRICK  TO  THIS  PICTURE.     IT  WAS  MADE  AT  THE  BOTTOM 
OF  THE  OCEAN  BY  MEANS  OF  A  SPECIAL  SUBMARINE  TUBE 


352  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 


and  then  coming  up  to  the  surface  with  the  pennies  in  their 
mouth.  A  short  while  later  motion  pictures  were  made  of  the 
ocean  bottom  in  the  region  of  Watling's  Island,  where  Columbus 
touched  on  his  journey  to  the  New  World.  These  motion  pic- 
tures were  a  revelation;  for  they  brought  to  motion-picture  audi- 
ences strange  sights  from  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  where  until 
that  time  it  was  practically  impossible  for  us  to  penetrate.  Thanks 
to  these  films  a  submarine  journey  was  depicted  on  the  screen, 
with  the  audience  taken  over  range  and  valley,  through  plains 
of  sea  weed  and  through  forests  of  beautiful  coral  growths,  with 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  beautiful  and  strange  denizens  of  the 
deep  coming  into  view  as  the  scenes  unrolled.  One  of  the  most 
thrilling  features  of  these  submarine  films  was  a  fight  between  a 
stalwart  Bermudian  native  and  a  shark,  the  latter  being  attracted 
into  the  field  of  the  camera  by  the  carcass  of  a  horse  suitably 
arranged  near  the  tube. 

At  depths  not  exceeding  thirty  feet  and  with  a  reflective  white 
bottom,  it  is  unnecessary  to  employ  artificial  illumination.  At 
greater  depths  it  is  necessary  to  resort  to  artificial  light  in  the 
form  of  water-proof  and  heavily  protected  quartz-burner  Cooper- 
Hewitt  lamps  of  great  candle-power,  which  are  lowered  over  the 
desired  scenery.  With  such  powerful  lamps  it  becomes  possible 
to  photograph  objects  75  feet  or  more  away  from  the  camera. 

The  possibilities  of  submarine  photography  appear  to  be  with- 
out limit.  The  Williamson  tube,  employed  by  these  brothers,  as 
well  as  other  effective  devices,  are  now  available  for  filming  deep- 
sea  stuff.  It  has  been  predicted  that  in  the  near  future  we  shall 
have  views  of  the  great  ships  sunk  during  the  world  war,  such  as 
the  Lusitania.  By  means  of  electrically  operated  cameras  and 
powerful  lamps,  which  can  be  operated  from  the  surface,  it  should 
be  possible  to  take  motion  pictures  at  practically  any  depth,  since 
it  is  the  human  element  that  places  a  very  definite  limit  on  deep 
diving. 

FILMING   MARINE   LIFE   ON   TERRA   FIRMA 

It  should  not  be  taken  for  granted  that  all  sea  life  is  filmed  at 
the  bottom  of  the  ocean.  In  fact,  some  of  the  most  remarkable 
photographs  of  this  kind  had  their  inception  in  a  number  of  huge 
tanks  built  back  of  the  home  of  a  natural  scientist  and  curator 
of  the  New  York  Zoological  Gardens. 


SCENE  FROM  A  THRILLING  UNDERSEA  PHOTOPLAY,  PHOTOGRAPHED  AT 
A  DEPTH  OF  THIRTY  FEET 


354  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

When  the  curator  determined  to  make  some  marine  motion- 
picture  studies  which  would  thrillingly  picture  deep  sea  hfe,  he 
first  made  a  series  of  experiments  by  the  sea.  Along  the  shore,  it 
was  found  possible,  during  the  time  of  the  brightest  sunlight,  to 
photograph  the  sandy  bottom  at  a  moderate  depth.  This  was 
done  with  something  like  a  huge  megaphone.  The  end  of  the 
contrivance  was  covered  with  glass.  All  sorts  of  strange  life  were 
portrayed,  but  many  and  even  more  curious  and  interesting 
forms  were  observed  at  a  depth  too  great  to  be  filmed  by  the 
means  at  the  disposal  of  this  natural  scientist.  So  he  decided  to 
set  up  a  marine  jungle  in  his  own  laboratory. 

To  do  this  a  number  of  enormous  plate-glass  tanks  were  built 
and  so  constructed  that  the  water  could  be  heated  to  the  tempera- 
ture exactly  necessary  to  some  forms  of  marine  life  and  chilled 
to  the  point  required  by  others.  Sea  water  of  a  clarity  found 
some  distance  out  at  sea  was  brought  to  shore  and  carried  in  big 
cans  to  the  studio.  In  this  water  rare  and  curious  specimens  of 
marine  life  were  also  transported. 

Next  a  great  quantity  of  rocks  and  marine  plants  was  brought 
to  the  laboratory.  The  idea  of  this  was  to  arrange  many  kinds  of 
settings.  To  produce  the  pictures  the  curator  had  in  mind, 
the  interiors  of  the  big  tanks  were  arranged  with  the  same  care  as 
a  stage.  In  one  scene  the  effect  was  produced  of  the  sea  jungles, 
of  waving  growth  in  which  roams  the  devil  fish,  and  the  caves 
wherein  these  monsters  lurk.  Then  there  was  material  for  rocky 
labyrinths  where  the  shy  fish  find  shelter,  sea  prairies  where  the 
crab  legions  congregate,  and  the  walls  of  the  reefs  on  which  live 
the  beautiful  corals,  star  fish,  and  sea  urchins. 

Special  settings  were  also  arranged  for  what  the  curator 
declares  to  be  one  of  the  most  remarkable  creatures  he  ever  cap- 
tured. This  is  the  smoking  caterpillar,  an  animal  that  walks 
about  on  the  sea  bottom,  in  upright  positions,  and  appears  to 
throw  out  its  chest  with  an  air  of  pride  while  it  smokes  a  ciga- 
rette. To  unbelievers  it  is  explained  that  the  ''smoke"  comes 
from  a  white  tube  and  is  a  lime  secretion  used  to  drive  enemies 
away. 

When  the  tanks  were  finally  completed,  inhabited  and  their 
settings    satisfactorily    arranged,    the    curator    ''shot"    in    them 


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356  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

some  very  extraordinary  dramas  and  comedies,  as  can  well  be 
imagined. 

In  order  to  use  the  camera  successfully  in  deep  tanks  of  sea 
water  and  follow  the  movements  of  the  actors  among  rocks  and 
tangles  of  ocean  growth,  there  is  much  to  be  done  in  the  matter 
of  lighting.  Then  again,  most  of  the  particularly  interesting 
forms  of  deep-sea  life  prowl  only  at  night.  These  nocturnal  forms 
were  illuminated  by  huge  arc  lamps,  giving  a  total  of  40,000 
candlepower.  It  was  necessary  to  make  the  bottoms  of  some  tanks 
of  glass  so  that  beams  of  light  could  be  projected  among  the  rocks 
from  beneath.  The  water  of  the  tanks  is  slowly  filtered,  being 
constantly  in  moderate  circulation  and  passing  through  screens 
which  catch  accumulating  particles  that  might  cause  it  to  be 
hazy. 

It  was  not  long  after  filming  his  first  marine  subjects  that  the 
curator  discovered  the  delicate  health  of  certain  kinds  of  speci- 
mens, which  could  not  survive  the  short  trip  from  the  seashore 
to  his  laboratory. 

To  get  these  last-mentioned  specimens  before  his  camera,  this 
scientist  found  it  necessary  to  rig  up  a  tank  at  the  sea  beach  and 
film  the  specimens  immediately  after  removal  from  the  water. 
There  were  many  troubles  in  doing  this.  The  water  in  the  tanks 
rapidly  heated  from  the  glaring  sun,  but  this  difficulty  was  met 
by  having  a  supply  of  ice  and  a  thermometer  at  hand.  On  some 
days  the  wind  made  it  impossible  to  keep  the  light  shielding 
screens  in  place,  and  sand  particles  in  the  air,  together  with  salt 
spray,  caused  trouble  with  the  particularly  delicate  mechanism 
of  the  close-up  motion-picture  camera.  But  by  keeping  everlast- 
ingly at  it  the  curator  has  succeeded  in  producing  a  large  num- 
ber of  excellent  films,  depicting  many  varieties  of  marine  life. 

A  POET   OF   THE   SCREEN 

It  seems  a  wide  step  from  cold  science  to  passionate  poetry, 
yet  motion  pictures  to-day  combine  the  two  on  the  same  program 
of  almost  any  theater  of  the  better  class.  There  is  at  least  one 
film  producer  who  is  using  the  motion  picture  for  scenic  purposes, 
coupled  with  wonderful  poetical  sentiments.  This  producer  de- 
picts a  wanderer  with  his  dog  as  sole  companion,  going  out  into 


ABOVE:     SOME   OF  THE  LAMPS    EMPLOYED    FOR   FILMING   MARINE   LIFE. 
BELOW:    TYPICAL  SCENE  MADE  IN  AN  AQUARIUM 


358  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 

the  wilderness  far  from  the  haunts  of  civilization  in  order  to  get 
in  touch  with  Nature  and  with  our  Maker. 

Such  poetical  films  are  quite  inspiring,  although  it  is  a  question 
whether  they  are  thoroughly  appreciated.  That  the  idea  can  be 
extended  is  perfectly  obvious ;  and  we  may  yet  see  a  new  field 
for  the  poet  who  stands  ready  to  co-operate  with  the  producer- 
artist  who  can  obtain  suitable  pictures  which  lend  themselves  to 
such  treatment. 

And  for  all  that  has  been  said  regarding  the  many  odd  applica- 
tions of  the  motion  picture  in  this  chapter  and  elsewhere,  the 
story  is  by  no  means  complete — and  never  will  be  complete.  As 
an  entertainer,  the  motion  picture  has  come  to  stay.  As  an 
educator,  it  is  just  beginning  to  come  into  its  own.  As  an  aid  to 
the  doctor,  the  surgeon,  the  engineer,  the  business  man,  and 
others  of  a  serious  turn  of  mind,  it  is  the  greatest  discovery  of  the 
ages.  For  the  time  being,  however,  cinematography  is  still  in  its 
infancy. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 


MOTION  PICTURES  IN  THE  HOME 

AND  BUSINESS 


r  M  iHE  HOME  and  the  office  are  being  invaded  by  the 
J^  motion  picture.  Just  as  the  musical  comedy  and 
opera  and  the  orchestra  and  the  military  band  have 
already  done  through  the  agency  of  the  modern  phono- 
graph. Truly,  the  phonograph  has  a  wider  appeal  than 
the  motion  picture  as  a  home  entertainer;  but  where  the 
former  already  exists  there  is  a  field  for  the  latter.  Inex- 
pensive and  thoroughly  practical,  mot  ion- picture  appara- 
tus is  at  last  finding  its  way  into  homes;  and  the  day  is  al- 
most here  when  every  home  will  have  its  collection  of  family 
and  general  films  and  a  compact  projector  alongside  the 
phonograph.  In  business  the  motion  picture  is  a  potent 
means  of  publicity;  there  is  no  better  way  of  placing  one's 
sales  argument  before  a  prospective  buyer  than  through  the 
medium  of  the  screen. 


360  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Business 

COMPARED  with  the  motion  picture,  the  conventional 
snapshot  is  lamentably  incomplete.  It  offers  but  a  very 
small  impression  of  any  given  subject;  indeed,  it  repre- 
sents that  subject  during  a  brief  instant  only,  let  alone  that  it  does 
not  show  the  action  of  the  subject.  In  the  case  of  individuals,  the 
snapshot  impression  may  be  entirely  erroneous,  for  the  reason 
that  a  person  is  too  often  apt  to  '^pose"  for  a  photograph,  assum- 
ing an  expression  that  is  far  removed  from  those  generally  asso- 
ciated with  that  person. 

But  to  make  motion  pictures  of  any  given  subject  is  to  make 
that  subject  literally  live  forever.  The  fidelity  of  the  screen 
reproduction  is  remarkably  complete.  Which  means  that  the  in- 
teresting moments  of  childhood,  the  disports  of  a  dog  or  other  do- 
mestic pet,  the  more  important  incidents  of  a  journey,  and  other 
phases  of  our  lives  can  be  recorded  for  the  years  to  come.  Ten, 
twenty  or  thirty  or  more  years  later  these  incidents  can  be  re- 
created, as  it  were,  not  only  for  the  amusement  of  the  family  but 
friends,  as  well. 

Aside  from  enabling  the  recording  of  interesting  phases  of  our 
lives,  the  motion  picture  has  still  another  attraction.  Deep  down 
in  the  heart  of  practically  every  film  devotee  there  lurks  a  desire 
to  see  himself  in  the  films.  For  to  be  filmed  is  to  be  accorded  that 
rare  privilege  of  seeing  one's-self  as  others  see  one.  In  other 
words,  one  can  then  'look  himself  over"!  And  concordant  with 
this  clandestine  interest  in  motion  pictures,  there  is  generally  the 
desire  to  produce  photoplays  like  those  in  the  theaters,  perhaps 
not  so  elaborate,  to  be  sure,  but  photoplays  nevertheless  with 
friends  and  relatives  playing  various  roles. 

What  fun  there  is  in  amateur  photoplay  production!  Sister 
Blanche,  who  has  written  hundreds  of  scenarios  and  holds  a 
record  for  receiving  every  one  of  them  back,  can  now  write  a 
short  scenario  for  Brother  Tom  who  is  to  direct  the  amateur 
photoplay;  Aunt  Clara^  who  has  always  longed  to  "get  into  the 
'movies,'"  can  now  realize  her  heart's  desire;  handsome  chum 
Fredie  can  now  appear  at  his  best  before  the  camera;  little  Bill 
around  the  corner  can  now  show  that  he  really  is  as  comical  as 
Charlie  Chaplin,  and  so  on. 

That  the  foregoing  is  by  no  means  a  fantastic  suggestion  is 
obvious  from  the  interest  taken  in  amateur  photoplays  by  our 


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362 Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Business 

society  folk.  For  several  years  past  the  summer's  program  has 
not  been  complete  if  it  did  not  contemplate  a  photoplay  with 
various  members  of  the  smart  set  taking  part.  Generally,  the 
camera  operator  and  the  director  have  been  professionals,  al- 
though in  some  instances  they  have  been  society  folk  like  the 
players,  making  the  photoplay  a  pure  amateur  undertaking. 
As  often  as  not  such  films  have  been  produced  for  a  benefit  of 
some  sort,  and  by  comparison  the  amateur  theatrical  has  faded 
into  insignificance. 

So  it  is  evident  that  there  is  a  field  for  simple  motion-picture 
apparatus  for  the  amateur.  Just  as  the  phonograph  has  brought 
the  music  of  the  entire  world  into  our  homes,  so  must  the  amateur 
cinematograph  at  no  distant  date  bring  motion  pictures  into  our 
midst.  The  ''library"  of  motion-picture  subjects  will  include  not 
only  well-known  stories,  views  of  foreign  lands,  novel  manufac- 
turing processes,  side-splitting  comedies,  and  news  weeklies  or 
dailies,  but  also  the  photoplays  of  the  family  with  an  all-star 
cast  including  everyone  from  the  one-year  old  baby  to  seventy- 
year  old  grandpa. 

A   MATTER  OF   DOLLARS   AND   CENTS 

The  home  "movie"  has  been  slow  in  coming,  let  us  admit.  But 
the  reasons  for  its  tardy  appearance  are  many  fold.  Most  impor- 
tant of  all,  however,  has  been  the  matter  of  cost.  Motion  pic- 
tures of  the  standard  type  are  recorded  on  long  strips  of  film,  and 
film  is  an  expensive  material.  The  price  of  raw  negative  film 
may  be  anywhere  from  2l^  cents  to  3I/2  cents  per  foot,  to  begin 
with.  After  the  film  has  been  exposed,  it  must  be  developed, 
thus  adding  another  cent  to  the  price  per  foot.  There  still  re- 
mains the  print  to  be  made  from  the  negative.  The  positive  print 
costs  either  4  or  5  cents  per  foot.  So  from  the  raw  negative  to 
the  finished  positive  the  cost  is  anywhere  from  7^  to  9I/2  cents 
per  foot. 

If  a  single  foot  of  film  were  sufficient  to  record  considerable 
action,  then  the  cost  would  be  inconsiderable.  But  to  record  the 
average  bit  of  action  it  requires  20  feet  or  more  which  immedi- 
ately brings  up  the  price  to  a  prohibitive  point  for  the  great 
majority  of  interested  persons. 

It  is  this  great  cost  of  film  that  has  held  up  the  introduction 


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364  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Business 

of  home  "movies."  Realizing  this,  many  inventors  have  sought 
to  get  around  the  drav/back  of  expensive  film;  and  some  of  the 
schemes  tried  have  included  glass  plates  carrying  hundreds  of 
images,  small  sized  film,  and  paper  or  opaque  films.  Much  has 
been  accomplished  along  this  hne ;  in  fact,  there  are  a  number  of 
practical  motion-picture  systems  now  available  for  the  average 
home  and  it  appears  to  be  a  matter  of  business  handling  rather 
than  practicability  upon  which  the  immediate  future  of  home 
cinematography  depends. 

Of  course,  there  are  certain  advantages  that  go  with  the  stand- 
ard sized  film.  For  one  thing,  the  home  motion-picture  projector 
handling  standard  film  can  be  used  for  whatever  films  are  avail- 
able on  the  market;  and  there  are  always  great  numbers  of  old 
films  that  can  be  picked  up  for  next  to  nothing.  Then  again, 
standard  film,  being  of  a  fairly  large  size  as  compared  to  other 
sizes,  gives  excellent  screen  results.  And  while  it  is  true  that 
standard  film  is  not,  as  a  rule,  non-inflammable,  there  are  numer- 
ous small  projectors  available  in  which  the  fire  hazard  is  ma- 
terially reduced.  Still,  fire  underwriters  object  to  the  use  of 
inflammable  film  in  homes,  which  means  that  a  fire  insurance 
policy  and  such  a  projector  do  not  go  together. 

The  owner  of  a  camera  that  takes  standard  motion-picture  film 
for  his  own  amusement  finds  plenty  of  places  where  he  can  leave 
his  work  to  be  developed  and  printed.  Occasionally,  when  an 
interesting  subject  of  wide  appeal  is  made  in  his  camera,  he  can 
offer  it  to  any  of  the  several  motion-picture  companies  interested 
in  such  subjects  and  realize  a  nice  sum  of  money;  whereas  with 
special  film  such  a  subject  would  have  little  if  any  market  value. 

But  nevertheless,  after  all  is  taken  into  consideration,  the 
standard  sized  film  does  not  meet  the  requirements  as  well  as 
the  smaller  films  and  plates  and  opaque  films  now  being  slowly 
introduced.  Standard  film  remains  expensive  and  far  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  great  majority,  although  there  are  numerous  in- 
expensive cameras  and  projectors  made  for  amateur  work  using 
such  film.  Some  of  the  cameras  sell  for  as  low  as  $35.00,  and 
can  be  operated  with  the  ease  of  a  Kodak.  The  projectors  sell 
for  as  low  as  $60.  In  the  more  elaborate  models  there  is  a  com- 
pact, highly  efficient  machine  the  construction  of  which  is  largely 
of  aluminum.     It  is  mounted  on  a  metal-lined  wooden  cabinet 


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366  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Business 

which  contains  the  reels,  and  only  a  small  section  of  film  is  ex- 
posed at  any  time  to  the  fire  hazard.  The  mechanism  is  motor 
driven.  As  far  as  operation  is  concerned,  this  projector  is  ideal 
in  every  way  for  home  use.  Its  price,  however,  is  somewhat  over 
$200.00,  which  makes  it  prohibitive  in  most  instances. 

Then  there  are  numerous  "suit-case"  projectors  available  for 
the  home,  schoolroom,  church,  or  salesman  on  the  road.  These 
projectors  are  made  up  in  the  form  of  substantial  carrying  cases 
which  contain  the  complete  apparatus.  When  set  up  the  case  of 
such  a  projector  acts  as  the  fireproof  or  asbestos  booth  for  the 
film  and  the  mechanism,  although  the  operator,  of  course,  op- 
erates the  machine  from  without.  In  the  hand-driven  models 
the  crank  comes  through  a  hole  in  one  side,  while  in  the  motor- 
driven  models  practically  everything  is  enclosed  except  the  motor 
switch  and  connecting  cord. 

Aside  from  the  suit-case  type,  there  are  several  other  light- 
weight projectors  of  the  simplest  design  and  lightest  weight. 
These  projectors  consist  of  an  arc  lamp  or  filament  lamp,  a  plain 
film  shifting  mechanism,  a  shutter  which  also  acts  as  a  flywheel, 
two  plain  film  reels,  and  a  substantial  iron  base.  The  weight  of 
such  a  projector  is  in  the  neighborhood  of  25  pounds.  In  order 
to  economize  space,  projectors  of  this  general  design  are  some- 
times arranged  so  that  the  projected  image  is  at  right  angles  to 
the  beam  of  light  from  the  lantern,  a  prism  being  employed  to 
bend  the  beam. 

FROM   SMALL   TO   STILL   SMALLER  PICTURES 

Among  those  who  have  devoted  some  attention  to  the  home 
cinematograph  problem  is  Thomas  A.  Edison,  the  famous  in- 
ventor. Several  years  ago  he  spent  considerable  time  developing 
a  home  projector  with  his  characteristic  thoroughness  and  skill. 
The  projector  which  he  finally  evolved  can  best  be  described  as 
a  professional  projector  in  miniature.  Taking  all  that  was  best 
in  standard  projectors,  Edison  reduced  these  factors  and  assem- 
bled them  into  a  diminutive  but  highly  practical  home  projector. 

To  solve  the  high  cost  of  film,  Edison  made  use  of  a  film  of 
slightly  less  width  than  the  standard.  Instead  of  one  image 
after  another  in  a  single  row  down  the  film,  he  arranged  his 
images  in  three  longitudinal  rows,  with  the  perforations  between 


THIS  PROJECTOR,  WHICH   THROWS  ITS   PICTURES   AT  RIGHT  ANGLES   TO 
ITS    AXIS.    HAS    BEEN   DESIGNED    FOR    SCHOOL   USE 


368  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Business 

the  rows  instead  of  near  the  edges,  so  that  with  300  feet  of  film 
he  obtained  about  16  minutes  of  continuous  action,  or  the  equiva- 
lent of  more  than  900  feet  of  standard  film.  The  operation  with 
this  film  consists  of  first  sending  it  through  the  projector  with 
the  first  row  in  position,  then  sending  it  through  backwards  with 
the  second  row  in  position,  and  finally  sending  it  through  again 
as  in  the  beginning,  but  with  the  third  row  in  position. 

Although  each  image  measured  but  3/16  inch  or  less  in  height 
by  1/4  inch  in  width,  while  the  screen  image  measured  up  to  eight 
by  ten  feet  when  desired,  the  pictures  were  fairly  clear  and  well 
illuminated.  A  baby  arc  working  on  lighting  circuits  through  a 
rheostat  (for  direct  current)  or  transformer  (for  alternating  cur- 
rent) supplied  the  illumination.  And  while  no  shutter  was  em- 
ployed in  the  tiny  projector,  the  screen  results  were  reasonably 
free  from  flicker. 

The  films  for  Edison's  home  machine  were  printed  from  stand- 
ard Edison  films  by  means  of  a  reduction  printer.  At  the  time 
the  projector  was  first  introduced,  the  films  were  quite  up-to- 
date,  representing  the  best  work  of  the  well-known  players  of  the 
Edison  film  organization.  Travel,  scientific,  and  industrial  films 
were  also  available  in  the  rather  complete  Edison  library. 

Still,  Edison  did  not  provide  a  camera  for  use  with  the  home 
projector,  and  in  that  way  he  only  satisfied  one-half  the  demands 
of  home  cinematography.  And  following  a  fire  at  the  plant  in 
which  the  film  manufacturing  equipment  was  destroyed,  the 
enterprise  was  abandoned. 

Edison  has  not  been  alone  in  his  idea  of  reducing  the  size  of 
the  film  as  a  means  of  bringing  the  cost  of  home  "movies"  within 
the  reach  of  the  multitude.  One  of  the  really  successful  home 
"movies"  has  come  from  France,  in  the  form  of  a  simple,  efficient 
projector  and  a  camera  using  film  of  lesser  width  than  the  stand- 
ard. Like  the  Edison  and  most  genuine  home  "movies,"  the  film 
in  this  case  is  of  non-inflammable  stock,  making  it  absolutely  safe 
to  handle  and  entirely  within  the  requirements  of  the  fire  under- 
writers. 

In  the  earlier  models  of  the  French  home  "movies"  referred 
to,  the  cranking  of  the  projector  also  operated  a  magneto  which 
supplied  current  to  the  incandescent  lamp.  More  recently  this 
system  has  been  Americanized  to  the  extent  of  designing  a  ma- 


SAMPLE  STRIP  OF  EDISON  HOME  KINETOSCOPE  FILM  WITH  THREE  ROWS 
OF  IMAGES   COMPARED  WITH  STANDARD   FILM 


370  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Business 

chine  that  is  typically  American  in  appearance.  Instead  of  the 
elaborate,  if  not  ornamental,  appearance  of  the  French  model, 
the  Americanized  projector  is  extremely  simple  and  compact  and 
constructed  entirely  of  aluminum  except  where  steel  and  iron 
and  brass  are  unavoidable.  This  new  model  is  motor-driven, 
and  operates  on  any  lighting  circuit.  The  illumination  is  sup- 
plied by  a.  tiny  incandescent  lamp  of  the  gas-filled,  high-effi- 
ciency class.  A  shutter  and  a  special  intermittent  movement  are 
employed ;  indeed,  so  quick  working  is  the  intermittent  movement 
of  this  machine  that  its  percentage  of  brilliancy  on  the  screen  is 
greater  than  that  of  any  other  projector,  professional  or  other- 
wise, so  it  is  claimed.  At  any  rate,  the  projected  picture  is  abso- 
lutely steady  and  flickerless. 

Where  electric  current  is  not  available,  this  projector  can  be 
used  together  with  a  hand-driven  generator  on  a  suitable  stand. 
Outfits  of  this  type  have  been  employed  by  troops  during  active 
service,  far  removed  from  electric  supply  and  other  conveniences. 

A  camera  is  also  available  in  this  French  system  of  home 
cinematography.  As  in  the  case  of  the  projector,  the  very  best 
commercial  practice  is  incorporated  in  the  camera.  In  fact,  this 
camera  is  of  the  enclosed  magazine  type,  with  a  high-speed  lens, 
rigid  tripod,  and  excellent  mechanism.  Perfect  pictures  can  be 
made  with  it  even  by  the  amateur  because  above  all  its  operation 
is  simple  and  readily  grasped. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  this  French  system,  especially  in 
Americanized  form,  is  the  ideal  home  ''movie."  The  owner  of  a 
projector  and  camera  can  make  his  own  films  and  project  them 
for  his  little  circle  of  friends  and  relatives.  Amateur  photoplays 
can  be  produced  with  this  excellent  equipment  for  club  and 
church  entertainments  and  benefits.  Furthermore,  the  agents  for 
this  system  maintain  elaborate  libraries  of  film  throughout  the 
world,  enabling  subscribers  to  the  service  to  obtain  the  bes^- 
dramas,  comedies,  scientific,  travel,  industrial,  and  other  subjects. 

Ideal  that  system  is;  to  say  otherwise  would  be  to  shun  the 
truth.  Yet,  the  great  drawback  is  the  familiar  one — price.  The 
projector  sells  in  the  neighborhood  of  $250.00,  the  camera  for 
$175.00,  and  the  films  rent  for  several  dollars  a  day  for  a  fair 
entertainment.  As  far  as  the  multitude  is  concerned,  the  system 
is  beyond  reach;  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  for  persons  of 


SAFE  HOME  MOTION  PICTURES:  FILMING  THE  SUBJECT,  AND  THE 
PROJECTOR  WHICH  IS  APPROVED  BY  FIRE  UNDERWRITERS 


372  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Business 

means  it  is  absolutely  ideal  and  the  solution  of  the  home  cine- 
matograph problem.  That,  in  fact,  is  amply  proved  by  the  larger 
numbers  of  projectors  and  cameras  of  this  type  in  daily  use. 

BRINGING   HOME   "mOVIES"   WITHIN    THE   REACH   OF  ALL 

For  the  present,  at  least,  it  remains  to  be  seen  what  success  is 
accorded  a  home  cinematograph  system  that  has  been  worked  out 
with  the  price  question  always  foremost  in  the  mind  of  the  in- 
ventor. Realizing  that  the  public  at  large  could  not  afford  to  pay 
several  hundred  dollars  for  a  projector  and  several  more  hundred 
for  a  camera  and  then  still  face  the  high  prices  for  the  film,  the 
inventor  in  question  has  evolved  a  projector  which  sells  for  $60.00, 
a  camera  for  $40.00,  a  tripod  for  $5.00,  and  negative  film  for 
$1.50  for  a  package  of  50  feet. 

The  system  is  still  comparatively  new  on  the  market,  and  the 
attention  of  the  pubHc  has  not  yet  been  attracted  to  the  ad- 
vantages of  the  equipment  as  it  must  be  before  this  system  be- 
comes more  universal.  The  practicability  of  projector  and 
camera  has  been  proved  beyond  doubt,  and  the  price  of  films  is 
certainly  within  the  reach  of  the  average  phonograph  owner  who 
pays  $1.00  or  more  for  an  occasional  record.  It  is  simply  a  matter 
of  informing  the  public  that  a  practical  and  inexpensive  ap- 
paratus is  now  available. 

The  camera  of  this  American  system  is  of  metal,  finished  in  a 
durable  black,  and  of  the  size  of  a  small  folding  Kodak.  The 
lens  is  a  special  formula  of  a  well-known  lens  maker,  designed 
to  give  great  sharpness  and  detail  on  magnification.  It  is  32-mm. 
fixed  focus,  thereby  limiting  the  necessary  knowledge  and  ex- 
perience of  the  operator  to  the  ability  to  turn  the  crank  while 
looking  at  his  subject  through  the  direct- view  finder  on  top  of 
the  case.  The  film  comes  in  handy  containers  or  packages,  that 
fit  directly  into  the  camera.  No  dark-room  work  is  necessary. 
Each  package,  containing  50  feet  of  film,  which  is  equivalent  to 
100  feet  of  standard  film,  or  over  two  minutes  of  action,  is  ready 
for  instant  use.  When  ready  to  place  the  film  package  in  the 
camera,  a  paper  seal  is  broken,  a  small  section  of  the  film  is 
pulled  out  until  a  six-inch  loop  is  obtained,  which  is  twisted  so 
as  to  fit  into  the  "throat"  of  the  camera,  the  door  is  closed,  and 
the  filming  can  proceed. 


CAMERA,    PROJECTOR,    AND    SAMPLE    STRIP    OF    FILM    OF    A    KECEWTL.Y 
INTRODUCED   INEXPENSIVE   SYSTEM   OF  MOTION   PICTURES 


374  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Business 

The  projector  is  also  of  all-metal  construction,  attractively  fin- 
ished hke  the  camera.  The  film  magazine,  with  a  capacity  of 
200  feet  of  film — some  seven  minutes  of  action — becomes  a  per- 
manent container  for  the  film.  When  the  magazine  is  full  it  can 
be  indexed  and  stored  away  just  as  one  would  index  phonograph 
records.  In  this  manner  a  'library"  of  films  is  readily  started. 
The  lamp  of  the  projector  is  a  specially  designed  Mazda,  filled 
with  nitrogen,  and  gives  a  powerful  light  when  operated  on 
ordinary  house  current.  Passable  moving  pictures  from  10  inches 
to  9  feet  wide,  depending  upon  the  distance  thrown,  can  be  pro- 
jected. The  projector  will  operate  any  distance  from  10  to  25 
feet.  At  12  or  15  feet  it  projects  a  picture  four  feet  in  width  with 
fair  clearness. 

At  the  time  of  writing,  this  system  is  intended  for  anyone  who 
desires  to  produce  his  own  films,  be  they  of  the  baby,  the  latest 
trip,  an  interesting  machine,  a  parade,  a  sporting  event,  or  an 
amateur  photoplay.  Eventually  it  would  seem  that  the  organiza- 
tion behind  this  system  will  be  producing  comedy  and  drama  and 
scientific  and  travel  and  other  subjects,  possibly  copied  from 
standard  film  by  means  of  a  reduction  printer.  But  for  the  time 
being  it  is  squarely  up  to  the  owner  of  a  complete  outfit  to  pro- 
duce his  own  subjects. 

In  Europe  the  matter  of  home  cinematography  attracted  con- 
siderable attention,  especially  on  the  part  of  large  camera  manu- 
facturers, prior  to  the  outbreak  of  the  great  war.  Typical  of 
many  attempts  to  use  small  films  was  that  of  a  German  camera 
manufacturer,  who  developed  a  pocket  camera  which  could  be 
used  also  as  a  printing  machine  and  as  the  projector.  The  film 
employed  in  this  apparatus  was  scarcely  one-half  inch  wide, 
making  its  cost  comparatively  small.  The  camera  weighed  but 
little,  and  made  use  of  the  conventional  tripod  for  "still"  photog- 
raphy. Because  of  the  small  size  and  short  lengths  of  film,  the 
owner  of  such  a  combination  camera-printer-projector  was  able 
to  do  all  his  own  work,  thereby  reducing  the  operating  cost  still 
further.  It  must  be  admitted  that  up  till  the  outbreak  of  the  war, 
this  German  equipment  represented  a  very  near  approach  to  a 
universal  home  "movie." 

One  American  inventor  has  hit  upon  a  scheme  for  utilizing  the 
standard  film  in  this  manner:    He  cuts  standard  film  in  half  and 


376  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Business 

uses  but  one  row  of  perforations.  His  images  are  only  half  as 
high  as  the  standard.  Thus  he  uses  only  a  quarter  as  much  film 
as  standard,  thereby  reducing  the  price  greatly  while  avoiding 
the  trouble  of  special  film  and  perforations.  This  scheme  is 
ingenious,  to  say  the  least. 

USING  PAPER  INSTEAD  OF  FILM 

By  some  it  is  still  held  that  the  ultimate  cinematograph  for 
amateur  use  must  be  one  in  which  filrii  is  replaced  by  some 
cheaper  carrier  of  the  images.  To  this  end  some  inventors  have 
worked  out  systems  making  use  of  paper  instead  of  celluloid 
films.  Lately,  an  American  inventor  has  introduced  paper  films 
of  the  same  size  and  perforation  as  standard  film,  which  can  be 
used  in  a  special  type  of  reflecting  projector,  working  on  the 
same  general  principle  as  the  post-card  projectors.  To  be  sure, 
paper  film  is  much  less  expensive  than  celluloid,  and  its  printing 
can  be  done  with  standard  motion-picture  equipment.  The  pro- 
jection of  this  opaque  film  is  fair,  and  there  is  no  difficulty  in  this 
direction.  Mechanically,  the  paper  is  made  sufficiently  heavy 
to  stand  the  wear  and  tear  on  the  sprocket  holes  for  some  length 
of  time. 

In  this  system,  however,  one  must  go  back  to  standard  celluloid 
film  in  making  the  negatives  from  which  the  paper  films  are 
printed.  So  if  the  owner  of  such  a  machine  desires  to  produce 
his  own  "movies,"  he  must  use  a  camera — inexpensive  or  ex- 
pensive, amateur  or  professional,  small  or  large — and  standard 
film.  Obviously,  the  negative  costs  the  same  in  this  case  as 
would  the  negative  for  any  standard  projector;  but  the  economy 
takes  place  in  the  positive  print  on  paper. 

So  far  we  have  only  dealt  with  films.  There  are  some  authori- 
ties who  persist  that  the  home  ''movie"  of  the  future  will  not  use 
film;  instead,  it  will  employ  plates  or  printed  sheets,  with  the 
images  running  in  horizontal  and  vertical  rows.  Long  ago  this 
system  of  motion  pictures  was  attempted  in  France  with  fair 
success,  and  to-day  one  such  system  at  least  is  available  for  use 
in  the  home. 

By  an  ingenious  mechanical  movement,  a  European  inventor 
now  in  America  makes  it  possible  for  anyone  to  make  motion 
pictures  on  glass  plates.    The  first  row  of  images  on  the  plate  are 


PROJECTOR    EMPLOYED    FOR    PROJECTING    THE    SPLIT    FILM    SHOWN    IN 
THE  PRECEDING  ILLUSTRATION 


378  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Business 

made  from  one  side  to  the  other,  and  upon  registering  the  last 
image  on  the  line  the  plate  drops  down  a  sufficient  distance  to 
accommodate  the  second  row,  which  is  made  in  the  opposite 
direction.  Reaching  the  last  image  of  the  row,  the  plate  again 
drops  down  and  the  third  row  is  made.  So  back  and  forth,  drop- 
ping down  one  row  each  time,  the  images  are  registered  on  a  single 
plate.  In  a  representative  system  of  this  kind  a  single  glass  plate 
measuring  approximately  5  by  7  inches,  registers  images  at  the 
rate  of  12  or  more  per  second  to  the  number  equivalent  to  75  feet 
of  standard  film. 

The  camera  of  this  system  which  now  exists  in  the  United 
States,  having  been  brought  by  its  inventor  from  France,  has  top 
and  bottom  magazines  which  handle  a  dozen  plates  at  a  time. 
The  operator  merely  has  to  crank  the  camera  in  the  usual  man- 
ner, while  the  images  are  recorded  on  the  first  plate  without  loss 
of  time  in  shifting  from  one  row  to  the  next.  Most  important  of 
all,  however,  is  the  detachable  metal  piece  on  each  glass  plate, 
which  not  only  serves  to  guide  the  plate  through  the  camera  but 
also  causes  it  to  engage  the  next  plate  which  comes  through  the 
camera  mechanism  without  a  halt.  Thus  the  operator  can  use 
his  twelve  plates  at  one  time,  registering  images  equivalent  to 
over  900  feet  of  standard  film.  The  projector  of  this  system 
works  on  the  same  principle,  and  can  show  one  plate  after  another 
without  a  break. 

The  low  cost  of  such  a  system  is  at  once  obvious.  Glass  plates, 
5  by  7  inches,  can  be  obtained  for  a  few  cents  each.  The  average 
amateur  photographer  can  develop  his  own  plates  in  the  usual 
manner;  and  if  he  cannot,  any  photographic  studio  can  do  the  work 
for  a  small  fee.  The  negative  once  developed  and  finished,  a  posi- 
tive is  printed  in  a  printing  frame.  This  glass  positive  or  "trans- 
parency" can  be  used  in  the  projector.  Thus  home  ''movies," 
in  this  case,  are  reduced  to  a  simple  matter  of  plate  photography. 

In  every  way  this  plate  system  of  motion  pictures  appears  to 
solve  the  problem  of  home  cinematography.  One  concern  in  New 
York  which  has  developed  such  a  system,  sells  a  camera  for 
$35.00  to  $50.00,  and  the  projector  for  about  the  same  price. 
Indeed,  it  seems  that  ultimately  the  two  functions  will  be  com- 
bined in  one  machine,  as  is  the  case  with  several  home  ''movie" 
systems.    Again,  this  concern  has  constructed  printing  machines 


STRIPS   OF  INSTRUCTIONAL    FILM   PREPARED   BY  A  MAGNETO   MANUFAC- 
TURER, DEPICTING  THE  CARE  OF  MOTORCYCLE  IGNITION  EQUIPMENT 


380  Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Business 

for  printing  positive  plates  from  standard  motion-picture  film; 
so  that  in  time  the  owners  of  their  projectors  will  be  in  a  position 
to  buy  or  rent  plates  on  standard  subjects,  well-known  comedies 
and  dramas,  and  so  on. 

When  it  comes  to  cost,  this  system  is  undoubtedly  the  most 
promising;  for  the  positive  plates  can  be  produced  for  less  than 
25  cents — and  each  plate  represents  as  much  action  as  75  feet 
of  film.  Of  course,  it  is  true  that  glass  plates  are  not  as  handy  as 
unbreakable,  compact  film;  but  where  cost  is  the  paramount 
consideration,  this  handicap  seems  more  than  offset.  Still  further 
to  reduce  the  cost  of  positives,  the  concern  introducing  this  system 
in  the  United  States  has  of  late  experimented  with  gelatine  sheets 
carrying  printed  images,  and  the  results  appear  to  be  quite 
promising.  By  running  such  sheets  through  a  regular  printing 
press,  it  may  yet  be  possible  to  make  weekly  news  films  which 
can  be  mailed  to  subscribers  by  regular  mail,  just  as  a  periodical 
is  mailed  to  its  readers  every  week  or  every  month. 

THE   SCREEN    REPLACES    THE   FAMILY   ALBUM 

Ultimately,  the  home  "movie"  must  supplant  the  family  and 
snapshot  album.  Already  there  are  available  a  number  of  sys- 
tems to  fit  various  pocketbooks,  and  it  is  now  possible  to  record 
any  subject  for  future  projection. 

To  say  that  the  box  camera  and  Kodak  must  eventually  give 
way  to  the  amateur  motion-picture  camera,  would  not  be  strictly 
true.  There  will  always  be  a  distinct  field  for  the  ''still"  picture: 
all  subjects  do  not  lend  themselves  to  motion  pictures.  For 
instance,  a  landscape,  a  house,  a  sunset — all  these  and  other 
subjects  devoid  of  action  do  not  require  animated  photography 
for  faithful  reproduction.  But  the  child  at  play,  the  athletic 
event,  a  busy  street  scene,  a  public  celebration — all  these  and 
others  full  of  action  require  animated  photography. 

So  at  no  distant  date  most  homes  will  have  their  home  "movie" 
equipment  as  well  as  their  box  camera  or  Kodak.  Perhaps  the 
former  will  in  time  become  as  common  as  the  latter;  but  at  any 
rate,  it  has  a  definite  field  which  cannot  long  be  denied  it. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 


THE  PRESENT  STATUS  OF  THE 
MOTION-PICTURE  ART 


TT  THERE  does  the  motion  p icture  stand  today?  Why 
l/i^  has  it  made  such  deep  inroads  in  the  time-honored 
field  of  the  legitimate  stage?  Why  is  it  that  the 
photoplay  is  so  effective,  despite  the  seeming  handicap  of 
muteness?  How  does  it  succeed  in  overcoming  the 
absence  of  color?  Why  is  it  so  artistic?  Common 
questions,  these;  and  the  author  has  endeavored  to  answer 
one  and  all  of  them  in  the  following  chapter,  with  the  aid 
of  some  of  the  leading  minds  in  the  motion-picture  in- 
dustry. The  present  status  of  the  motion  picture  speaks 
volumes  for  the  initiative  of  the  men  in  the  industry;  for  it 
must  be  remembered  that  it  is  barely  a  decade  ago  that 
■  motion  pictures  became  a  business.  And  more  has  been 
accomplished  than  appears  on  the  screen;  for  there  are 
numerous  ideas  which  exist  but  which  have  not  as  yet 
been  introduced  to  the  public. 


382  The  Present  Status  of  the  Motion-Picture  Art 

WHEN  gallery  business  of  regular  theaters  began  dropping 
away  several  seasons  ago,  and  the  cause  became  at- 
tributable to  the  comparatively  new  art  of  motion  pic- 
tures, experts  were  ready  to  explain  their  great  attractiveness  by 
their  extremely  low  price.  The  same  good  excuse  did  for  falling 
off  of  family  patronage  in  the  balcony.  But  it  was  difficult  to 
make  it  serve  when  the  occupant  of  the  orchestra  chair  showed 
willingness  to  divide  his  interest  between  a  spoken  play  and  a 
motion-picture  show. 

In  this  last-named  circumstance,  there  was  more  than  the 
question  of  price;  it  meant  that  motion  pictures  were  commenc- 
ing to  rank  high  as  genuine  entertainment  in  public  estimation. 

Since  this  became  evident,  pictures  have  made  many  strides. 
So  has  the  drama,  for  that  matter;  and  thereby  better  plays  have 
reclaimed  much  of  the  gallery  and  balcony  trade,  and  a  greater 
proportion  of  that  of  the  orchestra.  An  uncomfortable  fact  has 
come  to  light  in  this,  however;  and  that  is  that,  in  so  doing,  the 
reclamation  has  not  lessened  attendance  at  picture  palaces. 

Here  is  a  grave  situation.  Persons  in  the  theater  may  reason- 
ably show  apprehension  if  pictures,  which  make  substantially  the 
same  appeal  as  drama,  are  to  command  the  same  audiences.  The 
question  becomes,  Will  audiences  continue  to  divide  their  alle- 
giance, or  will  they  eventually  make  it  a  matter  of  choice? 

In  order  to  gain  a  fair  perspective  on  this  momentous  problem, 
it  is  imperative  to  examine  quality  as  well  as  character  of  each 
entertainment. 

INSPIRATION   AND   TECHNICAL    HANDLING 

After  all,  ''The  Play's  the  Thing,"  whether  in  a  motion  picture 
or  on  the  stage;  so  that  necessarily  comes  first.  In  either  case, 
the  play  involves  essentially  the  same  matters  of  inspiration 
and  technical  handling.  That  is,  speaking  now  of  the  play,  apart 
from  its  mounting,  which,  of  course,  has  marked  points  of  dif- 
ference. 

As  to  inspiration,  for  a  long  time  the  motion-picture  drama  had 
been  just  a  rehash  of  old  stage  plays,  novels  and  short  stories. 
To-day,  however,  it  is  finding  the  bulk  of  its  inspiration  in  its  own 
ranks.  It  has  its  own  corps  of  dramatists,  among  whom  at  least 
several  are  qualified  to  rank  with  the  foremost  dramatists  of  the 


o 

o 
<: 

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O 
W  o 


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>  P 
O 

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go 


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l-H    ^ 


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B   1*                   V  .             '<^     ^^^PMH^ir;:!; 

« 

'  'gSffti^^^^Bw^ n^^jt^^^mfr^      ^^^^t^^^^^mm-       - 

384  The  Present  Status  of  the  Motion-Picture  Art 

speaking  stage.  The  screen  works  of  those  dramatists  have  been 
remarkable  for  their  highly  dramatic  quality,  their  depth  of  feel- 
ing and  their  psychological  truth.  Yet  those  dramatists,  with  all 
their  admirable  qualities,  are  but  the  forerunners  of  a  coming 
school  of  photo-dramatists. 

Actual  construction  of  film  plays — the  continuity,  as  they  call 
it — will  probably  always  rest  with  the  director,  because  details 
of  treatment  depend  largely  upon  exigencies  of  the  physical  loca- 
tion that  may  not  be  anticipated  by  the  author.  The  modern 
director  is  generally  a  person  of  taste  and  discernment,  a  truth 
that  may  be  conveniently  demonstrated  by  the  achievement  of  a 
certain  director  the  author  has  in  mind.  While  giving  infinite 
attention  to  detail  in  directing  a  recent  photoplay,  this  director, 
knowing  that  the  most  imperative  thing  in  drama  as  in  life  is  the 
present  moment,  made  every  bit  of  it  contribute  to  progress  of  an 
action  that  remains  conspicuously  an  example  or  rare  cinemato- 
graphic intelligence. 

In  the  world  of  the  so-called  regular  theater,  they  will  tell  you 
as  an  enduring  truth  that  the  skeleton  of  every  great  play  is  told 
in  pantomime.  Pantomime  is  the  staple  of  the  pictures.  The 
axiom  is  amplified  by  the  trained  dramatist  and  the  seasoned 
actor,  who  declare  that  dialogue  should  be  employed  to  advance 
the  actual  plot  only  when  it  is  impossible  or  impracticable  to  do 
it  with  dumb  show.  The  modern  photoplay  bridges  such  gaps 
in  precisely  the  same  way,  with  its  subtitle,  a  device  that  has  come 
to  be  quite  as  effective  as  the  most  polished  dialogue,  while  it 
has  the  supplemental  merit  of  being  ^'heard"  in  the  remotest 
part  of  the  house. 

When  the  complete  appreciation  of  motion  pictures  comes  to  be 
written,  there  will  be  an  intensely  interesting  chapter  about  the 
subtitle.  It  has  grown,  even  in  its  logical  and  consistent  place, 
from  a  simple  explanatory  note,  to  a  cleverly  fitting  link  in  the 
given  chain  of  events,  presented  with  a  decorative  background 
that  conveys  the  force  of  the  immediate  situation  in  unmistakable 
symbols  as  well  as  in  preceding  pantomime. 

In  pantomime,  the  screen  has  a  tremendous  advantage  over  the 
stage  in  a  device  known  as  the  "close-up."  This,  as  its  name 
implies,  is  a  method  of  enlarging  a  detail,  such  as  a  hand  writing 
a  letter,  so  that  it  fills  the  screen  and  may  be  seen  by  everyone. 


CO 

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386  The  Present  Status  of  the  Motion-Picture  Art 

There  has  been  much  discussion  of  the  close-up,  and  some  at- 
tempts to  abolish  it,  notably  on  the  part  of  one  director  who 
aimed  to  keep  his  figures  of  uniform  size,  diminishing  them  with 
his  perspectives  but  never  permitting  them  to  approach  the 
camera  beyond  a  certain  point.  Nevertheless,  the  close-up  re- 
mains a  remarkably  effective  peculiarity  of  screen  photography. 
The  ciose-up  has  the  power  of  compelling  the  spectator  to  act 
with  the  picture,  so  to  speak,  bringing  the  object  of  his  attention 
so  near  that  it  fills  his  complete  comprehension,  spiritual  as  well 
as  mental,  as  it  completely  fills  the  zone  of  action  on  the  screen. 

THE   PART    OF    MECHANICAL   DEVELOPMENT 

In  his  attempt  to  solve  the  problem  of  pictures  and  stage  in 
their  relation  to  audiences,  the  dramatic  expert  states  it  this 
way:  "The  public  will  never  prefer  an  art  that  appeals  to  but 
one  sense,  to  one  that  appeals  to  both  sight  and  hearing."  To 
this,  the  photoplay  expert  responds,  "Appeal  to  the  sense  of  sight 
in  pictures,  is  so  infinitely  superior  to  that  of  the  regular  drama, 
that  it  amply  compensates  for  lack  of  the  spoken  word,  giving 
potentialities  to  the  photoplay  that  will,  in  total  effect,  make  it 
the  equal  of  the  drama." 

Pass  in  review  some  of  these  potentialities.  The  great  advan- 
tage of  pictures  over  the  speaking  stage  is  their  facility  of  chang- 
ing scene,  whereby  they  may  have  a  moving  steamship,  and  a 
panorama  of  any  given  country,  or  view  of  any  other  subject, 
the  scenes  being  separated  by  an  interval  too  short  to  be  compre- 
hended. 

The  stage,  we  are  told,  is  a  three-dimensioned  space;  the  figures 
are  rounded;  the  scene  is  plastic.  The  screen,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  a  plane  surface,  without  real  perspectives.  This  objection  to 
the  screen  production  has  been  triumphantly  met  of  late  by  the 
motion-picture  engineers. 

In  the  first  place,  the  reason  stage  figures  look  rounded  and 
screen  objects  flat,  is  triat  the  former  are  seen  with  two  eyes,  and 
the  latter  with  but  the  single  viewpoint  of  the  camera.  The  basis 
of  the  new  process,  patents  for  which  have  been  taken  out  by  a 
leading  producing  organization,  was  the  old  parlor  stereoscope, 
through  which  one  could  look  at  two  apparently  identical  flat 


INTERIORS      OF     TWO      TYPICAL      EASTERN      STUDIOS,      SHOWING      THE 
ARRANGEMENT  OF  SCENERY  AND  LIGHTS 


388  The  Present  Status  of  the  Motion-Picture  Art 


pictures  and  see  them  merged  into  one  in  which  everything  stood 
out  and  rounded.  After  much  experimentation,  the  stereoscopic 
motion  picture  is  an  actuality;  screen  perspectives  are  no  longer 
flat.  Indeed,  they  are  more  correct  to  the  eye  than  those  of  the 
stage.  The  stage  has  a  back  drop  with  a  single  perspective 
painted  upon  it,  this  standing  in  violent  contrast  to  the  double 
perspective  of  the  foreground.  The  new  picture  is  a  single  film 
and  may  be  run  in  any  standard  machine  without  special  at- 
tachment. 

The  stage  has  color;  the  commercially  successful  pictures  have 
not.  From  time  to  time  color-picture  films  have  appeared  on  the 
market,  but  owing  to  inherent  faults  and  heavy  expenses  these 
films  never  became  a  commercial  success.  Of  late,  however, 
newer  and  simpler  color-picture  processes  have  begun  to  appear, 
in  which  beautiful  and  accurate  results  are  obtained  at  a  cost 
well  within  reach  of  the  average  exhibitor.  Correct  color  at  every 
moment  is  something  that  the  stage  may  approximate  only  in  a 
broad  way ;  on  the  other  hand,  if  the  film  has  this  accuracy,  it 
becomes  still  another  point  of  superiority. 

When  the  stage  wishes  to  present  a  highly  poetic  scene,  it  can 
do  little  more  in  the  way  of  psychological  mounting  than  to  bathe 
it  in  diffused  light  and  play  it  behind  gauzes.  A  post-director  of 
the  art  staff  of  a  large  producing  organization  accomplishes  this 
with  a  diffusing  lens  for  his  camera.  It  softens  hard  outlines, 
but  yet  paints  a  landscape,  for  instance,  with  full  orthochromatic 
value.  This  beautiful  photographic  effect  made  its  debut  un- 
ostentatiously in  a  recent  photoplay. 

The  screen  has  become  a  three-dimensioned  space  in  another 
sense.  A  spectator  does  not  merely  view  the  scene  at  a  given 
distance — he  enters  it.  He  goes  through  doors;  he  ascends 
staircases;  he  travels  with  the  characters  in  their  private  cars, 
their  limousines,  their  railroad  compartments  or  whatever  their 
means  of  locomotion  may  be. 

Picture  settings  are  built  to-day  so  that  they  actually  have 
adjoining  rooms.  In  a  recent  photoplay  an  entire  first  floor  of  a 
New  York  mansion  was  duplicated  on  one  of  the  great  glass 
stages  in  southern  California,  with  everything  complete,  even  to 
the  bilfiard  room.  In  another  recent  photoplay  one  strolls  with 
the  leading  man  through  a  long  suite  of  magnificent  compart- 


ABOVE  :    SCENE  WITH  SHALLOW  TANK,  DEPICTING  SINKING  SHIP  ON  THE 
FILM.      BELOW:     WOOD    AND    PLASTER    "ROCKS" 


390  The  Present  Status  of  the  Motion-Picture  Art 

merits  in  a  royal  palace.     Surely  this  wonder,  though  of  minor 
importance,  is  denied  the  speaking  stage. 

ARTISTIC   IMPROVEMENT 

One  may  not  speak  of  the  manner  in  which  pictures  have  been 
overcoming  their  mechanical  limitations  without  remarking  the 
way  in  which  they  are  improving  their  advantages. 

On  the  speaking  stage  the  setting  has  served  for  too  long  a 
time  and  for  too  great  a  variety  of  physical  action,  to  be  designed 
as  a  fixed  pictorial  composition,  which  means  balanced  masses  of 
light  and  shade,  and  converging  lines;  characters  have  to  move 
about  without  making  the  effect  displeasing.  But  in  pictures, 
there  are  brief  flashes  of  connective  scenes,  in  which  no  one  moves 
out  of  the  fixed  scheme.  These  may  be  built  up  for  sheer  pic- 
torial beauty. 

Will  H.  Bradley,  art  director  of  the  Century  Magazine,  the 
artist  who  has  done  so  much  for  the  poster  in  America,  is  devoting 
much  of  his  time  to  this  phase  of  the  pictures,  accomplishing  his 
work  in  such  a  way  that  it  harmonizes  absolutely  with  the  prac- 
tical obligations  of  the  director.  He  designates  to  those  com- 
panies that  seek  his  expert  advice,  correct  lighting  of  interiors, 
artistic  variations  of  chiaroscuro,  and  dramatic  effect  to  be  pro- 
duced by  psychological  handling  of  color  notes. 

Scenery  is  no  longer  painted  for  the  pictures  in  prevailing  tones 
of  blue  and  brown,  but  in  full,  real-life  values.  Costumes  are 
quite  as  colorful.    As  a  result,  orthochromatic  registry  is  correct. 

One.  rarely  sees  anachronisms  in  the  pictures  to-day.  There  is 
a  technical  expert  in  each  large  studio  who  commands  all  impor- 
tant archaeological  references.  It  was  an  expert  who  provided  the 
accurate  settings  for  the  recent  American  film  production  of 
"Macbeth."  This  was  said  to  have  been  the  truest  production  of 
the  famous  play,  from  that  standpoint,  that  has  ever  been  made. 

Lighting,  largely  due  to  some  of  the  leading  directors,  who 
introduced  night  motion-picture  photography  by  means  of  pow- 
erful flood-Hghts,  has  made  great  strides.  Focusing  overhead 
lamps  has  made  it  possible  to  photograph  a  scene  with  correct 
shadows  from  a  table-lamp,  for  instance,  the  lamp  itself  not  too 
bright  and  the  rest  of  the  scene  sufficiently  illuminated.  Large 
shadows,  instead  of  being  abolished  as  formerly,  are  now  en- 


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ABOVE:      CAMERA    USED    FOR    MAKING    LARGE    HORIZONTAL    "FRAMES. 
BELOW:     RELATIVE   SIZES   OF   STANDARD    AND   NEW   IMAGES 


392  The  Present  Status  of  the  Motion-Picture  Art 

couraged  for  their  artistic  effect.  The  effect  of  the  baby  spot- 
hght,  in  picking  one  particular  character  out  of  the  scene,  has 
been  secured  by  the  use  of  a  transparent  iris,  before  the  camera 
lens,  making  one  figure  bright  and  the  rest  in  the  shadow. 

The  author  has  purposely  avoided  detailing  the  numerous  ex- 
periments being  carried  on  to  supplement  the  pictures  with  a 
mechanical  speaking  voice,  because  these,  while  interesting,  have 
so  far  fallen  short  of  satisfactory  results  from  a  commercial  point 
of  view.  The  difficulty  of  absolute  synchronization  of  phono- 
graph and  the  running  film,  which  breaks  and  is  clipped  from 
time  to  time  and  in  the  mending  cannot  well  be  matched  up 
with  the  accompanying  vocal  record,  is  negligible  when  compared 
with  the  difficulty  of  securing  the  human  quality  of  voice.  No 
mechanical  instrument  yet  made  for  the  purpose  has  succeeded 
in  reproducing  the  overtones  which  lend  quality  to  speech,  and 
the  lack  of  which  gives  us,  for  example,  that  curious  anomaly 
known  as  the  "telephone  voice"  as  opposed  to  that  of  intimate 
conversation  away  from  the  transmitter. 

The  really  important  observation  to  be  made  about  voice  is 
that  pictures  seem  to  be  developing  to  a  point  where  voice,  how- 
ever natural,  would  be  but  a  doubtful  accessory.  Unless  all  the 
living  sounds  of  a  landscape  tenanted  by  Nature  alone,  might  be 
incorporated  in  the  "counterfeit  presentment,"  there  would  be 
gaps  in  a  running  action  where  the  power  of  suggestion  that  now 
makes  itself  hear  the  slamming  gate  when  there  is  no  sound  but 
the  cUck  of  the  projector,  would  be  rudely  interrupted  by  jarring 
realism. 

One  might  continue  at  great  length  to  detail  various  innova- 
tions— flickerless  devices,  which  do  away  with  the  brief  region  of 
darkness  between  individual  pictures  in  the  reel;  the  discovery  of 
cold  light,  and  the  resultant  success  of  paper  "film"  which  is 
already  available  for  special  projectors  of  the  reflecting  variety; 
frames  of  various  colors  and  widths  which  may  be  placed  about 
a  projected  picture  by  means  of  an  additional  projector,  and 
which,  by  varying  the  colors,  can  carry  a  certain  meaning  to  the 
^cene  being  presented  in  black-and-white  for  the  sake  of  photo- 
graphic clearness;  and  so  on.  But  the  few  named  here  may  suffice 
as  concrete  instances  of  motion-picture  advance  on  the  technical 
side.     There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  screen  has  received  the 


NATURALISTS,   WORKING   WITH   MICROSCOPE    AND    CAMERA,    ARE    BRING- 
ING ALL  THE  WONDERS  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  WORLD  TO  THE  SCREEN 


394  The  Present  Status  of  the  Motion-Picture  Art 

best  efforts  of  numerous  inventors,  and  there  seems  no  limit  to 
what  may  be  achieved  in  mechanical  improvement. 

It  is  difficult  to  introduce  startling  or  revolutionizing  innova- 
tions in  motion-picture  work.  For  instance,  some  time  ago  a 
well-known  film  man  attempted  to  introduce  a  larger  sized  image 
in  order  to  secure  more  pleasing  proportions  for  the  screen  pic- 
ture and  to  have  a  larger  field  to  work  in  with  large  groups  of 
players.  By  using  standard  film  horizontally  instead  of  ver- 
tically, and  combining  the  space  of  two  ''frames"  to  make  a 
single  "frame,"  he  obtained  images  measuring  1  inch  high  by  IV2 
inches  wide,  as  compared  with  the  standard  image  of  %  by  1 
inch.  His  horizontally  operated  camera  and  a  comparison  be- 
tween his  "frame"  and  the  standard  appear  on  page  391.  At 
this  writing  his  scheme  has  not  been  considered  very  favorably 
for  the  reason  that  the  advantages  claimed  do  not  begin  to  com- 
pensate for  the  expenses  involved  in  using  special  film  and  pro- 
jectors. In  other  words,  it  is  difficult  indeed  to  upset  the  stand- 
ardized state  of  the  motion-picture  industry. 

But  the  real  advance  is  along  lines  where  the  instances  are 
intangible — the  things  academically  called  inspiration  and  photo- 
play writing.  These  almost  defy  analysis  at  the  same  time  that 
they  stir  emotion  to  unexpected  depths,  and  they  share  here  no 
more  limitations  than  in  drama. 

When  Charles  Lamb  long  ago  enunciated  the  everlasting  doc- 
trine that  the  power  of  drama  lies  in  suggestion  as  opposed  to 
representation,  he  was  anticipating  the  power  of  the  cinemato- 
graph as  well.  This  is  the  guiding  principle  of  the  new  motion 
picture,  freed  of  those  mechanical  limitations  that  once  kept  it 
from  being  what  it  is  soon  to  become — a  sister  art  of  drama. 


CHAPTER   XX, 


THE  FUTURE  OF  THE  MOTION 
PICTURE 


OUR  FIFTH  industry  is  the  motion  picture!  One 
by  one  it  has  overtaken  and  passed  older  industries — 
industries  which  have  a  more  vital  bearing  on  our 
daily  lives  than  the  amusement  which  the  motion  picture 
affords.  Yet  the  screen  art  is  in  its  infancy.  It  has 
exploited  only  the  field  of  amusement  to  any  considerable 
extent,  and  there  still  remain  many  other  fields  where  it 
has  even  greater  chances  of  success.  To  predict  what 
developments  may  take  place  in  this  art  is  to  fathom 
something  which  seems  to  surpass  understanding.  But, 
Judging  by  what  has  gone  by  and  by  what  is  being  done 
today,  the  author  has  endeavored  to  prophesy  some  of  the 
developments  which  will  no  doubt  mark  the  future  of  the 
motion  picture,  as  a  fitting  conclusion  to  this  work. 


396  The  Future  of  the  Motion  Picture 

CONSIDERING  that  the  motion-picture  art  is  only  a  trifle 
over  twenty  years  old,  and  that  its  career  has  been  one  of 
the  wonders  of  -modern  enterprise,  one  hesitates  to  predict 
what  lies  before  it  in  years  to  come.  Yet  the  progress  in  the 
past  has  established  a  definite  trend,  and  it  seems  only  necessary 
to  project  that  trend  in  order  to  predict  what  may  reasonably 
be  expected  of  the  future. 

COLOR  PHOTOGRAPHY  AND   TALKING   PICTURES 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  successful  color  photography  will 
soon  become  universal.  Already  there  are  several  systems  which 
are  entirely  practical,  and  their  wide  exploitation  appears  rather 
a  matter  of  business  organization  than  of  inventive  genius. 

New  problems  are  bound  to  arise  with  the  introduction  of  nat- 
ural-color photoplays.  The  comparative  simplicity  of  the  usual 
black-and-white  scenery  and  makeup  and  photography  have  long 
caused  the  greatest  directors  of  the  screen"  art  to  look  with  dis- 
favor on  color  photography.  For  with  the  introduction  of  nat- 
ural-color films  the  director's  troubles  will  be  increased  not  a 
little,  to  be  sure.  He  will  have  to  utihze  realistic  scenery ;  color 
schemes  will  have  to  be  studied,  and  garments  will  have  to  har- 
monize with  backgrounds;  and  photographically  numerous  diffi- 
culties will  arise  where  to-day,  with  black-and-white  film,  a 
subject  is  only  considered  in  terms  of  high-lights  and  blacks. 

Yet  the  public  is  the  final  judge.  When  once  the  public  is 
presented  with  entire  photoplays  produced  in  every  color  of  Na- 
ture, it  will  decide  whether  the  additional  expense  and  trouble 
involved  in  producing  such  photoplays  are  really  worth  while. 
If  it  decides  in  the  affirmative,  which  it  probably  will,  then 
sooner  or  later  the  black-and-white  photoplay  will  have  become 
a  thing  of  the  past. 

The  natural-color  "movie"  appears  to  be  nearer  reahzation 
than  the  talking  "movie.''  It  may  be  a  long  time  before  the  lat- 
ter is  introduced  on  a  large  and  permanent  scale.  Years  ago 
certain  French  producers  erected  an  elaborate  theater  in  Paris  in 
which  a  practical  system  of  cine-phono,  or  talking  picture,  was 
exhibited.  Entire  operas  were  produced  on  the  screen,  with  the 
players  acting  and  singing  at  the  same  time  in  the  most  realistic 
fashion.  It  is  said  of  this  attempt  that  the  cost  proved  too  great ; 


WESTERN   AND   EASTERN  STUDIOS:     ABOVE— STAGE   PLATFORM   IN   THE 
OPEN.      BELOW— GLASS-ENCLOSED   STUDIO   UNDER   CONSTRUCTION 


398  The  Future  of  the  Motion  Picture 

and  the  public — that  final  authority — voted  the  results  not  worth 
the  price. 

Still,  that  was  years  ago;  it  may  be  that  in  the  very  near  future 
a  similar  attempt  will  prove  successful,  financially  and  otherwise, 
and  that  it  will  mark  a  new  era  in  photoplay  production.  Cer- 
tain photoplays  will  be  of  the  talking  picture  variety,  while  others 
will  continue  to  be  as  they  are  now ;  for  there  are  many  who  claim 
that  the  greatest  appeal  of  the  screen  drama  is  the  fact  that  it  is 
silent:  it  gives  the  audience  a  great  opportunity  to  think  and 
sympathize  and  understand.  Just  as  the  stage  art  of  pantomime 
has  always  had  its  following,  so  must  the  silent  photoplay  always 
hold  its  own.  Such  subjects  as  musical  comedies  and  operas  will 
no  doubt  be  produced  in  talking  picture  form;  and  the  leading 
''hits"  of  Broadway  will  some  day  be  available  in  the  smallest 
town,  with  the  entire  cast  coming  to  the  picture  theater  in  small 
tin  boxes — voices,  music,  and  all! 

But  talking  pictures  call  for  special  and  elaborate  equipment 
which  every  theater  owner  is  none  to  anxious  to  install  unless 
compelled  to  do  so  by  public  demand.  The  color  films,  in  some 
of  the  present  systems,  can  be  exhibited  either  with  standard 
projectors  or  with  projectors  slightly  modified  by  means  of 
special  attachments.  Any  theater  can  show  such  films.  But  in 
the  instance  of  the  cine-phono  every  system,  so  far,  has  proved 
to  be  an  expensive  investment  by  way  of  exhibiting  equipment, 
and  that  alone  has  prevented  its  universal  exploitation  more  than 
the  fact  that  much  remains  to  be  done  by  way  of  perfecting  the 
results.  Again  the  public  is  the  final  judge;  if  the  pubhc  de- 
mands Broadway  musical  comedies  on  the  screen  of  little  towns 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  miles  away  from  the  Gay  White  Way, 
then  the  commercial  success  of  talking  pictures  is  assured. 

Some  authorities  on  motion  pictures  hold  that  all  future  films 
will  incorporate  the  feature  of  great  depth  or  relief;  that  is  to  say, 
the  images  will  be  stereoscopic  as  with  the  double- view  cards  and 
holder  which  used  to  be  on  the  parlor  table  of  almost  every  home 
a  score  or  more  years  ago.  When  photographs  are  made  in  the 
usual  manner  with  a  single  lens  they  are  considered  fiat.  That 
is  to  say,  there  is  no  idea  of  depth:  figures  in  the  foreground  do 
not  stand  out  from  the  background  as  they  would  if  viewed  with 
the  naked  eyes.    The  same  effect  can  readily  be  studied  by  view- 


DRESSING-ROOM  BALCONIES   OF  AN  EASTERN  STUDIO,   SO  ARRANGED  AS 
TO  MAKE  SUITABLE  PRISON  BACKGROUND    WHEN    DESIRED 


100  The  Futxire  of  the  Motion  Picture 

ing  a  pail  with  both  eyes  slightly  above  the  level  of  the  rim,  a 
short  distance  away,  and  then  with  one  eye  only.  When  both  eyes 
are  used  the  farther  side  of  the  pail  plainly  shows  as  sucli, 
whereas  when  one  eye  only  is  used  the  farther  side  appears  to  be 
merely  an  upward  extension  of  the  front.  That  demonstrates  the 
stereosropir  effect. 

Various  schemes  have  been  worked  up  in  the  past  for  producing 
stereoscopic  effects  in  motion  pictures.  Some  of  these  have  been 
quite  simple,  while  others  have  been  too  complicated  and  ex- 
pensive really  to  warrant  their  employment  now  or  in  the  future. 
But  when  it  is  borne  in  mind  that  some  photoplays  are  to-day 
being  exhibited  in  the  best  of  metropolitan  theaters,  with  seats 
selHng  anywhere  from  25  cents  to  $2.00,  there  seems  to  be  no 
reason  why  any  effect,  no  matter  what  it  may  cost,  should  not 
be  introduced  sooner  or  later  if  the  public  asks  for  it.  And  the 
same  applies  to  other  improvements  in  film  photography. 

THE   REAL    MOTION-PICTURE   THEATER 

We  have  seen  the  motion  picture  from  the  time  it  was  shown 
in  the  museums  and  side  shows  at  amusement  resorts,  to  the  so- 
called  nickelets  and  nickelodeons,  and  finally  to  the  palatial 
picture  theaters  of  New  York  and  other  large  cities.  We  have 
seen  the  musical  accompaniment  to  the  screen  drama  start  with 
the  piano  handled  by  a  $12-a-week  musician,  with  the  music  for 
all  the  world  sounding  like  the  ensemble  of  a  poultr^^  show  or 
the  operatic  efforts  of  a  feline  quartet  on  a  backyard  fence,  to 
the  large  and  complete  orchestras  of  the  leading  theaters  and  the 
orchestra-hke  organs  of  the  smaller  houses. 

The  future  certainly  must  mean  more  rather  than  less  for  the 
motion-picture  theater.  More  and  more  picture  theaters  of  the 
type  of  the  Strand  and  Rivoli  and  Rialto  of  New  York  city  w^l 
appear  in  every  city  of  reasonable  size.  Pictures  will  continue  to 
appeal  to  the  best  class  of  audience,  as  they  do  now.  It  is  not 
so  long  ago  that  pictures  were  avoided  or  ignored  by  the  better 
class  of  society;  but  by  steady  improvement  of  the  pictures  and 
the  method  of  exhibiting  them,  the  art  has  finally  won  over  every 
class  of  society  from  the  poorest  to  the  elite.  To-day  the  picture 
theater  vies  with  the  legitimate  theater  in  the  number  of  motor 
cars  strung  out  before  it  during  a  performance. 


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■******' #  iflf^^H 

'     — 

402  The  Future  oj  the  Motion  Picture 

The  interior  of  the  high-chiss  picture  theater  is  elaborate  in 
the  extreme.  The  setting  for  the  screen  picture  has  been  care- 
fully studied,  so  as  to  harmonize  with  the  subjects.  Instead  of 
the  blinding  contrast  between  the  bright  screen  and  the  inky 
blackness  of  the  theater,  which  formerly  caused  serious  eye- 
strain, the  modern  theater  exhibits  its  pictures  in  semi-darkness 
and  even  in  pleasing  colored  lights. 

Every  feature  film  worthy  of  the  name  is  generally  accom- 
panied by  a  special  musical  score.  Indeed,  leading  producers 
employ  the  services  of  a  skilled  composer  to  prepare  special 
musical  scores  which  will  aid,  not  hinder,  the  full  understanding 
of  the  action  by  the  audience.  Motion-picture  trade  papers  gen- 
erally offer  suggestions  to  exhibitors  regarding  the  musical  ac- 
companiment for  current  photoplays.  All  in  all,  the  matter  of 
musical  accompaniment  has  at  last  received  its  just  share  of 
attention;  and  the  presentation  of  any  photoplay,  in  turn,  has 
been  that  much  improved. 

The  ventilation  of  the  picture  theater  is  a  matter  that  is  more 
and  more  coming  to  the  front.  For  above  all  else,  the  audience 
must  be  comfortable.  There  are  numerous  theaters  to-day  in 
which  the  ventilation  is  poor.  Signs  of  this  condition  are  not 
lacking:  headaches,  drowsiness,  weakness — all  these  and  other 
symptoms  indicate  the  absence  of  fresh  pure  air.  Such  theaters 
are  injurious  to  one's  health  and  are  the  very  breeding  places  of 
all  sorts  of  contagion.  Fortunately,  these  theaters  are  being 
replaced  one  by  one  by  modern  structures  in  which  the  matter  of 
ventilation  has  been  a  foremost  consideration. 

It  may  be  that  the  leading  picture  theaters  of  the  future  will 
operate  on  definite  schedules  or  have  so  many  performances  a 
day,  just  as  those  theaters  now  showing  super-feature  films  have 
two  or  three  performances  a  day  with  all  the  seats  reserved. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  that  the  continuous  perform- 
ance feature  which  has  been  identified  with  motion  pictures  since 
their  inception,  may  in  most  cases  remain  as  it  exists  to-day.  If 
so,  and  if  seats  are  not  reserved,  then  some  system  is  bound  to  be 
introduced  sooner  or  later  so  that  a  definite  check  is  kept  on  the 
seats  at  the  ticket  office. 

Some  time  ago  a  suggestion  was  made  for  keeping  count  of  the 
seats  in  a  continuous-performance  theater.     An  inventor  sug- 


TWO  MORE  EXAMPLES  OF  WESTERN  OPEN-AIR  STAGES  WITH  OVERHEAD 
I.IGHT   DIFFUSERS    FOR   MODIFYING    THE   SUNLIGHT 


404  The  Future  of  the  Motion  Picture 


gested  the  use  of  a  sort  of  tell-tale  board  carrying  one  electric 
light  for  every  seat  in  the  house,  with  the  corresponding  number 
alongside.  With  the  tell-tale  board  conspicuously  displayed,  it 
would  then  be  possible  for  the  theater-goer  to  see  at  a  glance  the 
empty  seats  in  the  house,  the  empty  seats  being  indicated  by 
lighted  bulbs,  or  vice  versa,  as  the  case  might  be.  Although  the 
mstallation  of  such  a  system  is  bound  to  be  very  costly  because 
of  the  extensive  wiring,  let  alone  the  equipment,  it  seems  reason- 
able to  regard  it  as  a  feature  of  the  elaborate  theaters  of  the 
future. 

If  the  comfort  of  the  audience  is  to  be  served,  then  it  is  also 
reasonable  to  expect  that  the  seating  arrangement  of  the  future 
theater  will  be  ideal  in  every  respect.  The  screen  will  be  in  plain 
view  of  everyone,  and  the  distortion  which  is  noticeable  when 
one  views  the  pictures  from  one  side  w411  be  eliminated  by  avoid- 
ing side  seats  and  boxes.  And  if  these  seats  do  exist,  then  cer- 
tain optical  systems  will  be  devised,  either  in  the  form  of  special 
binoculars  or  certain  changes  in  the  projecting  mechanism,  in 
order  to  eliminate  the  annoying  distortion. 

While  dealing  with  the  matter  of  seats,  it  is  well  to  consider 
tlie  matter  of  persons  coming  in  while  a  picture  is  under  way. 
One  of  the  most  distracting  features  of  present  picture  houses  is 
to  be  disturbed  by  persons  who  wish  to  reach  seats  somewhere 
in  the  middle  of  a  row,  causing  a  dozen  or  more  other  persons  to 
stand  or  shift  to  let  them  pass.  The  future  exhibitor  will  see  to 
it  that  his  audience  is  not  disturbed  in  this  manner.  It  has  been 
suggested  that  future  inventive  genius  may  provide  some  form  of 
"pilot  picture" — an  actual  reproduction  of  the  screen  picture — 
at  the  box-office.  In  this  manner  the  theater-goer  may  know  at  a 
glance  just  what  is  being  shown;  and  if  the  feature  film  of  the 
evening  is  half  through,  he  may  walk  about  and  return  in  half 
an  hour  or  so  in  order  to  start  his  enjoyment  properly. 

It  may  be  pointed  out  that  a  pilot  picture  is  unnecessary.  There 
are  well-managed  theaters  to-day  which  run  their  performances 
on  a  definite  schedule,  even  exhibiting  a  "time-table"  in  the  lobby, 
so  that  the  theater-goer  can  tell  at  a  glance  what  he  will  see  if 
he  enters  at  a  certain  time.  Still,  this  does  not  solve  the  problem 
of  being  disturbed  by  late-comers;  most  hkely,  this  problem 
will  eventually  be  solved  by  a  seating  arrangement  whereby  the 


ARCS    AND    COOPER-HEWITTS    IN    EASTERN    STUDIOS    WHERE    SUNLIGHT 
IS  NOT  AVAILABLE  FOR  INTERIOR  SCENES 


406  The  Future  of  the  Motion  Picture 

middle  seats  are  filled  first,  leaving  the  outer  ones  free  for  the 
late-comers,  or  by  shutting  the  doors  while  a  photoplay  is  being 
shown.  Of  course,  the  feature  photoplay,  running  for  over  an 
hour,  has  brought  about  this  problem;  for  with  the  single-reelers 
of  a  half-dozen  years  ago  each  subject  lasted  only  fifteen  to 
twenty  minutes,  and  there  was  no  great  objection  to  holding  the 
late-comers  at  the  rear  of  the  theater  until  the  intermission.  The 
motion-picture  art  has  never  been  held  back  by  any  obstacles, 
and  sooner  or  later  an  end  must  and  will  be  found  to  the  problem 
of  the  late-comer  at  the  continuous  performance. 

One  of  the  pioneers  of  the  motion-picture  industry  has  de- 
veloped an  ingenious  projector  which  is  shown  on  page  407.  This 
projector  is  no  doubt  bound  to  figure  in  the  future  theater.  It 
consists  of  two  projectors  in  one,  projecting  the  images  at  right 
angles  to  the  lamp  houses  by  means  of  prisms.  The  film  reels 
are  placed  in  a  fireproof  cabinet  below  the  projectors  proper. 
Eight  reels  or  more,  comprising  the  entire  program,  may  be  pro- 
jected automatically  without  a  hitch,  one  film  following  the  other 
without  attention  on  the  part  of  the  operator.  In  fact,  the  de- 
signer claims  that  the  day  is  not  distant  when  the  asbestos  or 
fireproof  booth  will  be  done  away  with,  and  the  operator  will  go 
about  his  work  in  evening  clothes  in  a  simple  enclosure  of  brass 
railing.  The  audience  will  be  able  to  "see  the  works,"  so  to 
speak. 

CAN    THE    PHOTOPLAY   BE   IMPROVED? 

There  is  a  vast  difference  between  the  pnotoplays  of  the  present 
and  those  of  a  decade  ago.  But  during  the  past  two  or  three 
years  progress  along  this  line  has  been  somewhat  limited  and  not 
so  obvious.  The  photoplay  of  to-day  leaves  little  to  be  desired; 
motion-picture  acting  and  story-telling  technique  and  photog- 
raphy appear  pretty  nearly  perfect. 

To  prophesy  how  photoplay  acting  will  be  improved  in  the 
productions  of  to-morrow  is  well-nigh  impossible  at  present;  for 
the  attainments  of  to-day  fulfill  all  that  could  be  wished  for — 
and  more.  We  have  the  greatest  actors  and  actresses  appearing 
in  photoplays — even  those  talented  and  renowned  artists  who  but 
a  few  years  ago  would  never  have  condescended  to  ''act  in  the 
movies."    The  direction  of  photoplays  is  now  in  the  hands  of 


THIS  PROJECTOR  SHOWS  AN  ENTIRE  PROGRAM  WITHOUT  INTERRUPTION 
OR  ATTENTION  ON  THE  PART  OF  THE  OPERATOR 


40S  Tlic  Future  of  the  Motion  Picture 

veritable  masters  and  it  seems  very  unlikely  that  any  striking 
improvement  can  be  realized  in  this  direction.  All  in  all,  the 
work  of  the  motion-picture  artists  appears  to  have  about  reached 
the  ideal — or  dare  we  actually  call  it  perfection? 

As  for  photographic  effects,  it  would  seem  that  those  now 
at  the  disposal  of  directors  are  quite  complete.  Close-ups,  vig- 
nettes, "fade-ins"  and  "fade-outs,"  double-exposure,  special 
printing,  and  beautiful  tinting  and  toning  enable  the  telling  of  a 
picture  story  in  an  effective  and  pleasing  manner.  Still,  there 
are  great  possibilities  in  cinematography  proper  just  the  same  as 
there  are  in  any  other  art  where  mechanics  play  a  large  part. 

Eyestrain  has  been  given  considerable  attention  during  the  pa^t 
few  years.  One  does  not  have  to  strain  one's  memory  to  recall 
those  days  when  a  headache  or  strained  eyes  marked  a  visit  to  a 
picture  theater.  Indeed,  in  order  to  reduce  this  eyestrain  it  used 
to  be  quite  the  thing  to  look  at  the  screen  through  the  fingers, 
or  through  a  slot  cut  in  a  piece  of  cardboard.  And  later  on, 
while  this  eyestrain  still  existed,  one  inventor  got  up  a  pair  of 
spectacles  consisting  of  fibre  disks  with  a  horizontal  slot  in  each. 
The  narrow  slot,  whether  between  fingers,  in  a  piece  of  cardboard, 
or  special  spectacles  served  to  shut  ofif  the  distracting  sidelights  or 
reflections  arising  from  the  excessive  flicker  of  the  pictures. 

The  flicker  of  the  screen  was  soon  reduced  to  the  irreducible 
minimum,  practically  speaking.  There  have  been  machines 
designed  which  are  absolutely  flickerless — machines  in  which  one 
image  dissolves  right  into  the  next  without  a  period  of  darkness 
on  the  screen,  hence  without  flicker  of  any  kind.  But  such  pro- 
jectors, being  more  or  less  elaborate  and  expensive,  have  not  as 
yet  met  with  commercial  success;  the  reason,  apparently,  is  that 
the  standard  projectors  are  good  enough,  so  to  speak.  It  may  be 
that  in  the  future  the  audience  will  demand  these  improved  pro- 
jectors, in  which  event  they  will  be  forthcoming.  They  now 
exist,  in  practical  form;  but  again  the  inventors  await  the  final 
verdict  of  that  judge  of  judges — the  public. 

Another  source  of  eyestrain  has  been  that  caused  by  sudden 
changes  on  the  screen,  either  in  the  composition  of  successive 
scenes  or  in  the  degree  of  illumination.  For  instance,  if  in  one 
scene  the  eyes  have  been  drawn  to  a  figure  on  the  extreme  left, 


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73 



410  The  Future  of  the  Motion  Picture 

and  in  the  next  the  point  of  interest  lies  to  the  extreme  right,  the 
onlooker  is  immediately  disconcerted  and  his  eyes  seek  out  the 
new  point  of  interest  only  after  suffering  eyestrain  and  momen- 
tary confusion.  Again,  if  one  scene  has  been  made  in  the  open, 
in  bright  sunlight,  and  the  next  is  uniformly  dark,  the  quick 
change  from  a  bright  scene  to  a  dark  one  and  particularly  vice 
versa  is  quite  trying. 

Already  producers  have  given  much  attention  to  the  matter 
of  scene  changes  on  the  screen.  The  more  advanced  producers 
at  this  moment  have  more  or  less  overcome  all  sudden  changes 
in  either  light  or  points  of  interest.  Where  successive  scenes  do 
not  match  up  sufficiently  close  to  permit  of  going  directly  from 
one.  to  the  next,  the  various  devices  such  as  the  "fade-in"  and 
"fade-out,"  the  various  vignettes,  and  so  on  are  employed.  In 
this  manner  the  eyes  are  gradually  removed  from  one  scene  and 
introduced  to  the  next. 

Again  in  the  matter  of  titles  much  attention  has  already  been 
given  to  eyestrain.  It  used  to  be  a  regular  thing  to  insert  a  title 
anywhere  and  everywhere,  according  to  the  story  of  the  film. 
The  eyes  of  the  audience  were  taken  off  a  bright  scene,  introduced 
to  an  inky  black  title,  and  no  sooner  were  the  eyes  accustomed 
to  the  black  oblong  when  they  were  suddenly  confronted  with  a 
dazzling  white  scene  again.  Then  came  the  decorative  title, 
which,  originally,  was  intended  as  something  aesthetic  rather  than 
utilitarian.  Some  producers  soon  came  to  realize  the  practical 
value  of  the  decorative  title  and  ever  since  have  used  it  with  a 
double  purpose  in  mind. 

Because  of  the  possibility  of  tinting  the  decorative  title  to  any 
desired  degree,  this  later-day  innovation  serves  to  relieve  eye- 
strain. If  the  title  is  to  be  inserted  between  a  dazzling  white 
scene  and  a  dark  one,  the  design  or  motif  of  the  title  is  made 
rather  dark,  so  that  the  eyes  of  the  audience  are  carried  over  from 
the  bright  scene  to  the  dark  one  in  progressive  steps.  Or  if  the 
title  comes  between  two  bright  scenes,  then  the  motif  is  worked 
up  in  light  tones,  so  that  the  eyes  are  but  slightly  altered  between 
scene  and  title,  and  back  again  to  scene.  One  excellent  practice 
now  in  vogue  is  to  have  the  title  alwa3^s  appear  in  a  black  oblong 
or  square  in  the  center  of  the  gray  motif  or  design.    In  this  man- 


AS    FAITHFUL   REPLICAS    OF    FRENCH    BUILDINGS,    EVEN    DOWN    TO    THE 
MINUTE    DETAILS.    THESE    SETS    CANNOT    BE    SURPASSED 


412  The  Future  of  the  Motion  Picture 

ner  the  lettering  runs  uniform  on  a  uniform  background,  while 
the  variable  border  takes  care  of  the  eyestrain. 

Particularly  in  the  matter  of  animated  cartoons  is  eyestrain 
constantly  being  considered.  Producers  of  such  subjects  are  now 
shading  their  little  characters  and  tinting  their  films,  in  order 
to  take  away  from  the  otherwise  dazzling  highlights  of  the  ani- 
mated cartoons. 

MOTION -PICTURE   INSTRUCTION 

It  was  PMison,  if  our  memory  serves  us  correctly,  who  once 
said  that  he  could  teach  more  history  in  fifteen  minutes  by  means 
of  motion  pictures  than  could  ever  be  learned  from  any  book. 
That  statement  is  precisely  true.  Long  ago  the  educational  value 
of  cinematography  was  realized,  but  its  apphcation  has  been  very 
slow  indeed.  Even  to-day  our  schools  could  be  much  more  effi- 
cient and  interesting  to  the  students  if  motion  pictures  were 
employed.  In  the  study  of  the  life  of  certain  animals,  for 
instance,  a  single  reel  would  bring  out  the  points  in  a  manner 
never  to  be  forgotten  by  the  children.  History  could  be  made 
to  live  again  and  become  firmly  imbedded  in  the  young  minds 
by  inspiring  photoplays. 

There  is  a  vast  field  in  front  of  the  educational  motion  picture. 
What  is  being  done  to-day  by  way  of  teaching  our  soldiers  the 
elements  of  military  science  by  means  of  special  motion  pictures, 
is  but  a  modest  start.  The  same  is  true  of  special  motion  pic- 
tures used  in  medical  colleges  to  instruct  students  in  some  delicate 
operation  or  treatment.  Again  the  same  is  true  of  those  motion 
pictures  which  are  exhibited  before  engineering  societies,  showing 
the  work  in  connection  with  a  huge  bridge  or  dam  or  aqueduct. 

The  action  of  a  delicate  mechanism  can  be  explained  in  the 
simplest  manner  by  means  of  the  animated  cartoon.  A  skilled 
rnechanical  draughtsman  has  established  quite  a  name  for  himself 
by  his  animated  drawings  which  explain  the  working  of  timely 
things,  such  as  the  submergence  of  a  submarine,  the  manner  of 
erecting  a  big  bridge,  or  the  action  of  a  machine  gun.  And  in  each 
case  the  explanation  is  so  obvious  that  even  the  women  and  chil- 
dren soon  grasp  the  idea,  whereas  it  would  require  hours  of 
verbal  explanation  to  accomplish  the  same  end.     In  the  latter 


THE  BEST    OF    ACTING    IS    EXPECTED    NOT    MERELY    OF    THE    LEADING 
PLAYERS,   BUT  OF  THE   SUPPORTING   PLAYERS   AS   WELL 


414  The  Future  of  the  Motion  Picture 

case,  however,  the  teaching  would  prove  dull  and  uninteresting, 
whereas  the  screen  always  commands  interest  and  attention. 

It  must  come  sooner  or  later,  this  idea  of  a  motion-picture 
library,  where  a  school  will  be  able  to  secure  reels  on  any  subject. 
Motion  pictures  are  certain  to  become  recognized  supplements  to 
the  textbooks. 

THE  SILENT  BUT   CONVINCING   SALESMAN 

Hand  in  hand  with  the  motion-picture  educator  will  come  the 
motion-picture  salesman.  Both  already  exist,  but  only  in  a 
small  way ;  and  the  future  appears  most  promising. 

Progressive  machinery  firms  are  already  making  use  of  motion 
pictures  for  interesting  prospective  purchasers  in  their  products. 
Films  are  prepared  showing  machinery  in  actual  operation,  as 
w^ell  as  the  work  in  the  factory  and  the  various  facilities  of  the 
firm.  Instead  of  walking  into  a  prospective  purchaser's  office 
and  offering  him  a  catalogue  after  the  usual  conversation,  your 
progressive  machinery  salesman  first  says  a  few  words  mainly  to 
secure  permission  to  exhibit  his  set  of  pictures.  His  small  pro- 
jector, weighing  25  pounds  or  less,  is  soon  set  up  on  the  nearest 
desk  or  table;  a  wire  is  run  to  the  nearest  receptacle;  a  light 
wall  is  chosen  as  a  screen;  the  film  is  threaded  through  the  ma- 
chine; the  room  is  darkened,  and  the  improvised  screen  proceeds 
to  unfold  what  amounts  to  an  animated  catalogue  or  advertise- 
ment. But  this  catalogue  or  advertisement,  with  its  animated 
pictures  and  drawings,  holds  the  undivided  attention  of  the  pros- 
pective purchaser.  It  is,  in  this  respect,  far  different  from  the 
printed  page  which  can  be  of  some  value  only  if  it  commands  a 
few  moments'  attention. 

Salesmen  seUing  machinery,  modern  farm  equipment,  gasoline 
tractors,  and  other  similar  lines  were  formerly  awkwardly  placed 
when  face  to  face  with  a  skeptical  and  half-interested  prospective 
purchaser.  In  answer  to  the  question,  "But  where  can  I  see  one 
of  your  machines  in  operation,"  the  prospective  buyer  would  be 
told  that  there  was  one  only  three  hundred  miles  away.  In  fact, 
the  firm  would  pay  all  the  traveling  expenses!  Would  the 
prospect  please  come  along  and  be  convinced? 

The  bigger  the  business  man  the  more  valuable  his  time.  So  it 
generally  proved  that  the  really  big  man  who  was  in  a  position  to 


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5  M 


416  The  Future  of  the  Motion  Picture 

sign  the  order  "on  the  dotted  hne,"  could  not  and  would  not  spare 
the  time  for  such  a  trip.    He  remained  unconvinced. 

Commercial  motion  pictures  have  changed  all  this.  Those 
progressive  firms  which  back  their  salesmen  with  the  best  reels 
that  genius  can  produce,  have  stolen  a  long  march  on  their 
competitors.  The  most  skeptical  prospective  customer  can  be 
convinced  by  showing  him  machines  or  equipment  actually  in 
use,  either  around  the  corner  or  around  the  globe  from  where 
he  sits  at  that  very  moment.  And  it  is  a  human  failing  to  like 
pictures;  a  salesman  w^ith  pleasing  personality  can  always  secure 
a  few  moments'  audience  with  the  busiest  executive  if  he  has 
motion  pictures  to  show  him. 

The  silent  but  convincing  salesman,  the  motion  picture,  is 
coming  in  a  big  way  within  the  next  few  years.  Compared  to 
other  forms  of  publicity,  the  motion  picture  is  inexpensive.  In- 
deed, and  as  was  explained  in  a  preceding  chapter,  cameras  can 
now  be  purchased  at  a  slight  cost,  while  numerous  types  of 
portable  projectors  are  available  for  the  use  of  traveling  salesmen. 
So  with  an  investment  of  a  few  hundred  dollars  and  an  outlay  of 
$50  or  $75  for  each  reel,  any  organization  can  avail  itself  of  the 
very  best  form  of  publicity. 

Motion  picture  publicity  need  not  be  limited  to  interesting 
prospective  customers  in  their  offices.  Carefully  prepared  and 
without  the  earmarks  of  out-and-out  advertising,  special  films 
can  be  made  for  use  in  theaters,  before  conventions,  in  clubs,  and 
so  on.  Such  films  have  been  made  and  exhibited  in  numerous 
instances,  and  they  have  appeared  on  the  same  program  as  photo- 
plays and  news  films  without  arousing  anything  but  keen  interest 
and  appreciation  on  the  part  of  the  audience.  Almost  any  busi- 
ness has  much  romance  involved  in  its  working,  and  it  only 
remains  for  some  master  mind  to  dig  out  the  interesting  things 
and  present  them  in  a  film. 

And  where  does  the  publicity  value  come  in  if  no  name  ap- 
pears? one  asks.  The  answer  is  simply  this:  That  if  a  firm  is 
turning  out  a  certain  product,  it  can  secure  added  business  by 
creating  a. general  demand  for  that  product.  Once  the  demand 
is  created,  any  business  well  conducted  has  ways  and  means  of 
obtaining  its  share  of  the  orders. 


AS    A   MEANS    OF    CENTRALIZED    LIGHTING,    POWERFUL    SEARCHLIGHTS 
SUCH  AS  THIS  ONE  ARE  NOW  BEING  INTRODUCED 


418  The  Future  of  the  Motion  Picture 

THE  'brotherhood   OF    NATIONS 

Advertising  is  not  limited  to  individuals  and  firms.  Even 
nations  have  to  advertise  to-day. 

When  the  great  war  broke  out  upon  a  peaceful  world,  Germany 
immediately  started  a  vast  advertising  campaign,  or,  to  give  it  the 
more  refined  name,  propaganda.  Newspapers  were  bought;  hun- 
dreds of  skilled  writers  were  put  to  work  in  various  countries, 
beUigerent  and  neutral;  periodicals  were  established  with  a  lavish 
disregard  for  money;  and,  lastly,  motion  pictures  were  prepared 
of  the  German  army  and  its  accomplishments  for  presentation  in 
neutral  countries. 

The  United  States,  Spain,  South  America,  Central  America 
and  the  Scandinavian  countries  were  flooded  with  German  motion 
pictures.  The  object  of  these  was  two-fold:  first,  the  Germans 
sought  to  create  fear  of  the  German  power,  which  was  shown 
at  work  in  beautiful  France  and  in  expansive  Russia;  secondly, 
the  Germans  sought,  if  possible,  to  create  an  admiration  for  the 
German  deeds.  Of  all  the  methods  of  propaganda  employed  by 
the  Germans,  it  has  been  held  by  those  in  a  position  to  know, 
that  the  screen  method  was  the  most  effective. 

Other  belligerents  soon  followed  Germany  in  the  matter  of  film 
propaganda.  Great  Britain  circulated  marvelous  films  of  the 
mobilization  of  her  armed  millions,  of  her  great  fleet,  and  of  her 
historic  battles.  France  circulated  films  showing  the  determina- 
tion of  the  poilus  when  they  carried  out  their  resolve  that  the 
Germans  would  not  pass  at  Verdun,  as  well  as  numerous  other 
phases  of  her  valiant  fight  against  an  almost  overwhelming  and 
brutal  foe.  Italy  sent  out  her  films,  showing  the  brave  Alpini 
struggling  on  mountain  tops  and  the  wonderful  Italian  engineers 
constructing  cableways  and  roads  where  only  the  intrepid  moun- 
tain climber  had  heretofore  trod. 

The  Allies,  having  a  good  and  just  cause,  finally  won  the  ap- 
proval of  the  world  through  their  motion-picture  propaganda. 
The  Germans  failed,  because  their  part  in  this  war  was  so  ob- 
viously wrong  and  impossible,  and  because  German  U-boats  and 
diplomats  simply  forced  one  nation  after  another  to  join  the 
enemies  of  Germany. 

And  when  the  United  States  entered  the  great  war,  it  followed 


420  The  Future  of  the  Motion  Picture 

the  example  of  other  belligerents  and  set  to  work  making  films  of 
its  achievements  on  the  battlefront  and  the  home  front.  These 
films  served  a  double  purpose:  first,  they  kept  Americans  in- 
formed as  to  the  progress  of  the  war  and  the  war  industries; 
secondly,  they  brought  our  ideals  and  hopes  and  reahzations  to 
the  farthest  corners  of  the  earth.  Our  South  American  neighbors 
were  kept  in  touch  with  our  war  efforts,  and  so  were  the  Scandi- 
navians and  the  Swiss  and  the  Spaniards  and  all  the  peoples  not 
actually  at  war.  The  Allies,  too,  were  kept  in  touch  with  our 
gigantic  efforts,  just  as  they  kept  us  in  touch  with  theirs. 

So  out  of  the  miles  of  celluloid  depicting  great  battles,  shipyard 
activities,  the  work  of  gun  and  shell  makers,  and  the  activities  of 
men  of  the  hour,  has  sprung  a  new  brotherhood  of  nations  lately 
engaged  in  a  great  and  noble  struggle.  Peoples  of  various  races, 
creeds,  and  modes  of  living  have  been  brought  into  a  closer  un- 
derstanding. Who  knows  but  that  the  same  medium,  the  motion 
picture,  will  continue  to  aid  in  the  greatest  of  all  things  on  earth 
in  the  future — the  reunion  of  all  nations  into  a  real  league  of 
nations? 


INDEX 


A  Page 

Acting,  Peculiarities  of  Photoplay 40 

Acting,  Screen  and  Photoplay 34 

Action,  Speeding  Up 196 

Actor,  How  to  Become  a  Photoplay 48 

Actor,  The  Photoplay 34 

Actors,  Children 50 

Actors,  Doubling  of 98 

Actors:  How  They  Review  Their  Work .  .   60 

Actors  Who  Direct  Themselves 20 

Actors  Who  Take  Child  Parts 60 

Adaptation  of  Stories  and  Books  for  the 

Screen 12 

Angle  of  the  Camera  Lens 40 

Animals  of  the  Screen 150 

Animated  Cartoons,  Sculpture  and  Dolls.  302 

Animating  Dishes  and  Other  Things 190 

Aquatic  Subjects 352 

Arc  Lamps 136 

Art  or  Technical  Director 30,  IIG,  390 

Artisans  of  the  Screen 148 

Assembling  the  Film 222 

Author  of  the  Screen 2 

B 

Backward  Movement 196 

Battle  Scenes,  Realism  of 170 

Bullet,  Flight  of  a 330 

Business  Motion  Pictures 360 

c 

California,  Why  Producers  Settled  in 142 

Camera  Details 76 

Camera  Face?  What  Is  a 42 

Camera  Lenses 66 

Camera  Matts 100 

Camera,    Motion-Picture  Portrait 344 

Camera  Movements 70 

Camera,  Operation  of  a  Motion-Picture.  .   66 

Camera,  The  Motion-Picture 64 

Camera,  Tripod  for 84 

Cameraman,  The 88 

Cameraman:  How  He  Became  Proficient 

in  His  Work 88 

Cameramen,  "Mob  Stuff"  and  the 168 

Cameramen's  Dark  Rooms 140 

Cameras,  Compressed-Air 234 

Cameras  for  the  Screen  Reporter 232 

Cameras,  High-Speed 330 

Cameras,  "Pirate" 234 

Cameras,  Trick 196 

Cameras,  Various  Kinds  of 78 

Cartoons,  Animated 302 

Casting  Director 32 

Children:  Getting  Them  to  Act 50 

Children  Parts  Played  by  Adult  Actors.  .    50 

Cine-Phono  Systems 290 

Circle  Vignette  Effect 94 

City,  Motion  Picture 152 

Close-up,  The 384 

Close-up  and  the  Actor,  The 42 

Close-up  and  Photography ^ 90 

Coaching  of  Players ' 26 


Page 
Color  Films,  Hand  Colored  and  Natural 

Color 262 

Color  Films,  Various  Systems  of .  . 266 

Color  Pictures,  Natural 260,  396 

Comedians,  Qualifications  of  Screen 52 

Comedians,  Tricks  of ]98 

Comedy  in  Writing  and  in  Action 52 

Comedy  Productions,  Scenarios  for 14 

Comedy,  The  Secret  of 52 

Commercial  Films 414 

Continuity,  or  Keeping  Scenes  in  Order  of 

Sequence 28,  384 

Cooper-Hewitt  Lamps 136 

Correspondence  Schools 48 

D 

Dark  Room  Work 206 

Depth  of  Focus,  Reason  for.  .  . 68 

Developing  the  Film 206 

Diffused  Focus 388 

Directing  a  Photoplay 18 

Directing  Children 50 

Directing  "Mob  Stuff" 162 

Directing,  Steps  in .    22 

Director  and  Actor,  Comparing  the 18 

Director  is   Becoming  a  Specialist,  How 

the 30 

Director,  Location 30 

Director,  Qualifications  of  a.  .  .  .• 20 

Director,  The  Casting 32 

Directors,  Two  Schools  or  Types  of 26 

Directors  who  Write  their  Own  Photo- 
plays    22 

Dolls,  Animated 302 

Double  Exposure  Effects 98 

Double  Printing 192 

Drawings,  Animated 302 

Drying  the  Films 210 

Dummies,  The  Use  of 188 

"Dupes" 212 

Dust  and  Film  Work 204 

E 

Editing  the  Film 222 

Editing  the  Photoplay 28 

Edison  Home  Kinetoscope 366 

Educational  Motion  Pictures 412 

Effects,  Artistic  Lighting 390 

Effects,  Circle-in  and  Circle-out 96 

Effects,  Circle  Vignette 94 

Effects,  Curtain  Vignette 98 

Effects,  Diffused  or  Softened  Pictorial.  .  .388 

Effects,  Double  Exposure 98 

Effects,  Fade-in  and  Fade-out 94 

Electric  Spark  Photography 326 

Elements  of  Screen  Comedy 54 

Excess  Film,  Utilizing  the 28 

Exposures,  Time  of 66 

Extras,  "Mob  Stuff"  and  the 170 

Extras  and  the  Photographic  Tryout ....   44 

Eye  Fatigue  Strain 220,  408 

Eyes,  The  Relative  Photographic  Merits 
of  Different 42 


INDEX — Continued 


F  Page 

Fade-in  and  Fade-out  Effects 92 

Feature   Photoplay    and    How    It   Came 

About 30 

Film,  Assembling  the 30,  222 

Film  Camera 64 

Film  Cuttings 222 

Film,  Developing  the 20G 

Film  Dimensions  and  Data 64 

Film  Drying 210 

Film,  Editing  the 222 

Film  Fires 246 

Film,  Handling  the  Highly  Inflammable.  .244 

Film,  Perforating  the 204 

Film  Photography  and  Static 104 

Film,  Printing  the 210 

Pilm  Titles 218 

Filming  Fish  and  Marine  Life 352 

Filming  or  "Shooting"  a  Scene 24 

Films,  Analytical 330 

Films,  Animated  Target 334 

Films,  Animating  Cartoons  for 306 

Films,  Animating  Dolls  for 316 

Films,  Animating  Sculpture  for 306 

Films,  Cost  of  Home  and  Business 360 

Films  for  Salesmen 414 

Films  for  Training  Soldiers 338 

Films:  High  Speed  Pictures  Slowed  Down 

in  Projecting 330 

Films  made  by  Electric  Spark  Method .  .  326 

Films,  Microscopic 278 

Films:  Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields.  324 

Films,  Natural  Color 260 

Films,  Non-Inflammable 364 

Films  of  Invisible  Subjects 278 

Films  of  Metal  Stresses 340 

Films,  Origin  of 324 

Films,  Paper 376 

Films,  Photographing  Sound  Waves  on.  .294 

Films,  Pictorial  Effects  in 390 

Films,  Propaganda 418 

Films,  Shipping  the 222 

Films,  Standardization  of 394 

Films,  Stereoscopic 398 

Films,  Submarine 348 

Films,  Talking  Motion-Picture 290 

Films,  Tinting  and  Toning  th^ 216 

Films,  X-ray 324 

Flicker,  Eliminating  the 408 

Flickers,  Eliminating  the 248 

Floor  Stands,  Studio 138 

Focus,  Diffused 388 

Focusing  the  Camera 72 

Frames  or  Images,  Standard 64 

Furniture  for  Sets 144 

Future  of  Motion  Pictures 396 

Future    of    the    Screen    Newspaper    and 

Magazine 238 

H 

Hallation:  How  It  Is  Avoided 102 

Home  Motion  Pictures 360,  364 

I 

Insects  in  Flight 326 

Inspiration  and  the  Photoplay 382 

Instruction,  Motion-Picture 412 

Interiors,  Building 116 

Intermittent  Movements  of  the  Projectors  250 


L  Page 

Laboratory  Water  Supply 208 

Laboratory  Work 204 

Laboratory  Work,  Exceptional 216 

Laboratory  Work,  Tinting  and  Toning.  .216 

Laughs,  The  Creating  of  Screen 52 

Lenses,  Motion-Picture 66 

Lenses,    Special    Extra   Fast   for    Night 

Photography 68 

Light,  Composition  of 264 

Lighting  Effects 390 

Lights,  Spot 390 

Lights,  Studio 134 

Location  Man 30 

Location,  Work  on 164 

Locations,  Finding  the 32 

Lot,  The  Studio 144 

M 

Magazines,  Camera 72 

Magazines  of  the  Screen 238 

Magazines,  The  "Fan" 34 

Makeup  for  the  Films 44,  102 

Map  Making  and  Motion  Pictures 348 

Marey  Institute 324 

Matts,  Camera 98 

Mercury-Vapor  Lamp,  Advantages  of 136 

Metallurgical  Films 340 

Microscope  and  Motion-Picture  Camera.  282 

Microscopic  Film  Subjects 278 

Microscopic  Organisms,  Filming  the 284 

Military  Motion  Pictures 338 

Miniature  Sets 146 

"Mob  Stuff" 162 

"Mob  Stuff":  Getting  the  Public  to  Act. .  180 

Models  for  Sets.  Cardboard 146 

Motion-Picture  Camera 64 

Motion-Picture  Map  Making 348 

Motion  Picture,  Poetry  and  The 356 

Motion-Picture  Portraiture 342 

Motion-Picture  Targets 330 

Motion  Pictures  for  Instruction 412 

Motion  Pictures  for  Training  Soldiers.  .  .  .338 

Motion  Pictures,  Future  of .396 

Motion  Pictures  in  the  Home  and  Busi- 
ness   360 

Motion  Pictures  in  Strange  Fields 324 

Motion  Pictures  of  Metal  Stresses 340 

Motion  Pictures,  Origin  of 324 

Motion  Pictures,  Propaganda  through.  .  .418 

Motion  Pictures  that  Sell  Goods 414 

Motion  Pictures,  Submarine 350 

Motion  Pictures:  Why  They  Are  Sharp.  .   68 

Music  and  the  Pictures 402 

Muybridge's  Experiment 324 

N 

Natural  Color  Films 200,  396 

Nitrogen-Filled  Lamps  for  Studio  Illumin- 
ation   138 

o 

Operator,  The  Projector 258 

Outdoor  Scenery,   Making  the  Most  of 

Existing 126 

Outdoor  Sets 124 

Outdoor  Stage,  Preparing  the 162 


INDEX — Continued 


P  Page 

Pantomime  and  the  Screen 40 

Paper  Films 376 

Parts  of  a  Camera 66 

Perforating  the  Film 204 

Photographic  Colors 102 

Photographic  Limitations  and  Acting.  ...   42 

Photographic  Makeup 44 

Photographing  of  Blonds  and  Brunettes..  42 

Photography  of  the  Trick  Film 186 

Photoplay:  Can  It  Be  Improved? 406 

Photoplay,  Editing  the 28 

Photoplay,   Preparations  for  the 22 

Photoplay,   Trimming  the 28 

Photoplayers 34 

Photoplays,   Accuracy  of 30 

Photoplays,   Microscopic 278 

Picture  Theaters 400 

Pictures  in  Relief 398 

Pirates  of  the  Screen 234 

Plaster,  Use  of 148 

Plaster  Workers  in  the  Studio 148 

Plates,  Motion  Pictures  on 376 

Poetry  and  the  Screen 356 

Portraiture,   Motion-Picture 342 

Preparations  for  the  Photoplay 22 

Present  Status  of  Motion  Pictures 382 

Printing  by  Projection 214 

Printing,  Double  and  Multiple 192 

Printing  the  Film 210 

Projecting  the  Films 242 

Productions,  History  of  Big 168 

Projector:  Arc  Lamp  and  Incandescent.  .254 

Projector,  The 242 

Projectors  for  the  Home  and  Office 364 

Projectors,  Hand  and  Motor-Driven 252 

Projectors,  Portable 364 

Projectors,  "Suit-Case" 366 

Propaganda  Pictures 418 

Property  Man 146 

Property  Rooms .  .* 144 

Property,  Trick  Film 202 

Prospective,  Screen  and  Stage 386 

Publicity  through  Motion  Pictures 416 

Publicity  to  Actors  and  Directors 34 

R 

Rainstorms  and  Thunderstorms 114 

Raw  Stock,  Film 204 

Realism,  Cost  of  Screen 120 

Realism  in  Battle  Scenes. 170 

Reel,  Average 64 

Rehearsals,  Conducting  the 26 

Reporters  of  the  Screen  Newspapers 224 

s 

Salesmanship  and  Motion  Pictures 414 

Scenarios  and  Scenario  Writing 2 

Scenario,  Arrangement  of  the 6 

Scenario,  Difference  between  Story  and.  .      4 

Scenario,  Importance  of  The 382 

Scene  Carpenters  and  Painters 110 

Scene,  Filming  or  "Shooting"  a 24 

Scene  Loft 148 

Scene  Painting 148 

Scenery  and  Photography 100 


Page 

Scenery,  Break  Away 200 

Scenery,  Making  the  Most  of  Existing.  . .  126 

Scenery,  Motion-Picture  Studio 108 

Scenes,  Handling  the  Big 162 

Scenes,  History  of  the  Big 168 

Scenes,  Order  of  Taking 24 

Scenes,  Preparing  the  Battlefield 164 

Screen  Acting 34 

Screen   Acting    and   Stage   Acting:    How 

They  Differ .38 

Screen  and  Stage:  A  Comparison 386 

Screen  Favorites:  How  They  Got  in  the 

Movies 46 

Screen  Newspapers 224 

Screen  Newspapers  and  Magazines,  Fu- 
ture of 238 

Screen  Poetry 356 

Screen  Rain  and  Lightning 114 

Screen  Realism,  Cost  of 120 

Screen  Realism,  Instances  of 118 

Screen  Reporting,  Essentials  of 228 

Screen  Stage  and  Legitimate  Stage,  Dif- 
ference Between  the 38 

Sculpture,  Animated 302 

Sets,  Cost  of 120 

Sets,  Cost  of  Huge  Outdoor 122 

Sets,  Elaborate 388 

Sets  in  Miniature 146 

Sets,  Interior 116 

Sets,  Motion-Picture 108 

Sets,  Outdoor 122 

Shooting  at  Motion-Picture  Targets 332 

Showing  of  the  Film,  First 30 

Signalling  Systems  for  Big  Scenes.  ......  174 

Silhouette  Scenes 130 

Sound:  Recording  It  on  Films 294 

Spot  Lights 390 

Stage  and  Screen:  A  Comparison 386 

Stage,  Film 152 

Standardization  in  Studio  Properties.  ...  150 

"Stars"  and  the  "Star"  Evil 36 

Static,  Film 104 

Static,  Methods  of  Eliminating 104 

Stereoscopic  Films 398 

Studio,  California 144 

Studio  Carpenters  and  Painters 110 

Studio,  Electric  Current  for 138 

Studio  Floor  Space 140 

Studio  Lighting  Systems 134 

Studio  Lot 144 

Studio,  Modern  Methods  in 144 

Studio,  The  Motion-Picture 132 

Studio,  Property  Rooms  of 144 

Studio  Stages  and  Privacy  for  Players. . .  140 

Studio,  Standardization  in ' 150 

Studio  Supplies 120,  150 

Studio,  Visitors  to  the 142 

Studio  Workshop 146 

Studios,  Daylight 134 

Studios,  Large  Western 152 

Studios,  Pioneer ,  .  .  132 

Studio  Workshop,  Products  of 110 

Studios,  The  Why  of  The 132 

Submarine  Motion  Pictures 348 

Submarine  Tube,  The  Williamson 352 

Subtitles 384 

Synchronization    of    Film    and    Talking  . 
Record 292 


INDEX — Continued 


I 


T  Page 

Talking  Pictures 290 

Talking  Pictures,  Future  of  the 398 

Talking  Pictures,  Status  of 392 

Talking  Pictures,  Synchronization  of .  .  .  .292 

Technical  Director 30 

Technical  or  Art  Director 116 

Telephones  for  Directing  Big  Scenes 106 

Testing  Studio  "Takes" 140 

Theater  Time  Table 402 

Theater,  Ventilation 402 

Theaters,  Motion-Picture 400 

Theater,  Seating  Arrangement 402 

Thunderstorms  and  Rainstorms 114 

Tinting  and  Toning 216 

Titles,  Double-Printed 196 

Titles,  Little  Known  Object  of  Decorative .4 10 

Titles,  Making  the 218 

Titles,  Ornamental 218 

Toning  and  Tinting 216 

Trick  Properties 202 

Tricks  and  Comedians 198 

Tricks:     Animated     Dishes     and     Other 

Things 192 

Tricks,  Backward  Movement 196 


Page 

Trick  Cameras 190 

Tricks:  Disappearance  and  Substitution.  .186 

Tricks:  Double  Printing 192 

Tricks:  Exaggerated  Speed 198 

Trick  Films,  Early 184 

Tricks  of  the  Screen 184 

Tricks:  Races  that  are  Faked 202 

Tripods,  Camera 84 

"Types,"  The  Meaning  of 48 

V 

Ventilation,  Theater 402 

Vignetting  Devices. 96 

w 

Water,  The  Question  of 208 

"Weekly"  Films 224 

Williamson  Submarine  Tube 352 

Workshop,  Studio 146 

X 

X-Ray  Films 324 


RETURN  CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 
T0^-»-  202  Main  Library  642-3403 


LOAN  PERIOD  1      2 


LI  BRARY  USE 

this  book  is  due  before  closing  time  on  the  last  dote  stamped  below 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


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ncccivcD 


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CIRCULATION  UnPT. 


y(ODlSCOTi't'iiim|/^p3  12004 


fcUlU 


AUTO.  DISC 


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ntp^nt  ATfON 


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RECEIVPn 


OCT  08  1988 


JUL  0  8  1989 


CIRCULATION  dE^T. 


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